


most perfect possession

by sharkfish



Series: riptides [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bipolar Disorder, Breathplay, Choking, Collars, Dildos, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Face-Fucking, Fisting, Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Honeymoon, Kittens, Light Bondage, M/M, Makeup, Mental Illness, Multiple Orgasms, Paddling, Panties, Plot Averse, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Sappy, Sex Toys, Slapping, Spanking, Sub Dean, Vibrators, Weddings, very very
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-01-30 03:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “Hey,” Dean says, grinning. “I kinda like you.”“And you’re willing to announce it to all of our friends and loved ones.”“Let’s do this.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: riptides [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535888
Comments: 364
Kudos: 560





	1. TILL DEATH DO US PART

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be clear, there is zero plot to be found here. 
> 
> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com%22) and [noxlee](http://nox-lee.tumblr.com%22) for this chapter. 
> 
> the rings:  
[dean's](https://www.etsy.com/listing/503693334/10kt-yellow-gold-6mm-brushed-mens?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=mens+gold+wedding+ring&ref=sr_gallery-2-19&organic_search_click=1&frs=%22)  
[cas's](https://www.etsy.com/se-en/listing/583808046/mens-wedding-band-7mm-mens-wedding-ring)

Dean eyes the bracelet in Cas’s hand warily. “Yeah, of course, but nothing weird today.” 

Cas laughs, leans forward to kiss him, full but brief. “I promise. Nothing weird today. I’ll save weird for the honeymoon.” 

Dean holds his arm out and Cas buckles a thin leather bracelet around his wrist. “Hey,” Dean says, grinning. “I kinda like you.” 

“And you’re willing to announce it to all of our friends and loved ones.” 

“Let’s do this.” 

Charlie plays officiant, just the three of them in their bedroom. The bed is made for once and they each have a ring in their pocket. 

“I didn’t write vows,” Cas says. “I wrote a letter and you can see it later.” 

“Well,” Dean says, blushing and hands shaking. “I mostly found mine on the internet. So.” 

Cas laughs and leans forward to kiss him. “Guys!” Charlie says. “It’s not time for kissing yet.” 

Dean looks at his notecard, then realizes it wouldn’t be right if he wasn’t even looking at Cas. “I love you,” he says, and Cas quirks a smile. “I’ve always believed in you, and no matter what happens, I’ll be here for you. Every time I look at you, I’m looking at my best friend.” Nervous laugh. “I promise that when we are old and gray, we will look back on our lives together and have no regrets, because it’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment, and every other moment until death do us part.” 

Cas blinks, and it takes Dean a second to realize he’s trying to clear the tears from his eyes. 

“Rings,” Charlie says. 

They both pull out the boxes at the same time. They decided to skip the matching rings and instead chose for each other, so Dean’s a little nervous Cas will hate it, regardless of the hours and hours overthinking it. His nervousness intensifies when he slides it on Cas’s finger and Cas just stares, turning his hand back and forth in the light. 

“Do you, um, hate it?” 

“You’re an idiot,” Cas says. He throws his arms around Dean’s shoulders and murmurs, too close for Charlie to hear, “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

_ “No kissing,”  _ Charlie hisses. “Give Dean his damn ring.” 

Cas laughs, leans back, pulls back just enough to slide a ring on Dean’s finger. Charlie squeals, “You’re married!” and then, “Now the kissing, but I’m getting out of here before I see too much.” 

Neither of them even hear her, because they’re already wrapped up in each other, Cas’s hand in Dean’s hair. “I love you so fucking much,” Cas whispers. 

“Love you more,” Dean whispers back, and then, “Jesus, why did we schedule this party right after? I want newlywed sex.” 

Cas laughs, head tossed back in joy, and squeezes Dean’s hand. “You’re the one who scheduled this shindig without time in between for that. Later, though, I’ll take care of you.”

After all of this time, Dean still flushes pink when Cas says something like that. He tries to get himself under control and redirects with, “Everyone’s going to think we’re fucking if we don’t hurry up.” 

“You’re my husband now.” Cas kisses him, soft and adoring. “I’m going to pick your food and drinks tonight, though you should let me know if I’m not doing a good job.” 

Dean tries to hold down a grin and says, “Yessir,” before dashing down the hall towards the back door. Cas is surprised enough that he doesn’t catch up until they’re in sight of other people. 

Before they open the door, Cas gives him that  _ look,  _ the one that makes Dean’s heart race. The one where Dean can’t stop thinking about what Cas will do to him. And then Cas grabs his hand, and they’re walking out to cheers from pretty much everyone they know. 

Dean squeezes Cas’s hand —  _ I got you —  _ when he tenses to prepare himself for walking into a crowd. Even though Charlie was the one to officially marry them, she runs up first, screeching, to smack a kiss on each of their cheeks. “I love you dorks so much,” she says. 

Ash shakes each of their hands and pulls a vape pen from his pocket, hands it directly to Cas. “This is some good shit, my friend. Enjoy.” 

As Cas is inhaling the second hit, the caterer gives a thumbs up through the crowd, and Dean grins. “Please tell me you’re not going to make me  _ wait  _ to eat at my own love party.” 

“I would never be that cruel,” Cas says with a smile, though they both know Dean’s ass and the tops of his thighs are covered in bruises. But those don’t feel cruel — they feel like  _ I do, I do, I do.  _

Cas leads Dean through the crowd by the hand. They’re interrupted multiple times for more congratulations, but eventually make it to the food. They went all out: filet mignon, some weird cauliflower steaks — Dean hasn’t stopped scoffing at the idea — grilled root vegetables, twice baked potatoes, soft rolls, a salad Cas decided on. 

Cas lets Dean hold his own plate but Cas is the one to serve. Dean gets a hefty steak as well as a smaller cauliflower one, and the rest of his plate is piled with a serving of all the other items. He has no complaints, because both of them are calmed when Dean gives himself up to Cas. 

“We ordered a  _ lot  _ of food,” Dean says as they head to the table with two reserved spots for them. “I hope you like it because we’re going to be eating leftovers for the next month.” 

“Perhaps you’re underestimating how much our friends can eat.” 

Dean sits, but Cas just leans over to leave a kiss in his hair. “I’m getting drinks. You can eat the salad if you like, but nothing else until I get back.” 

“Ok,” Dean says. 

Charlie, Row, and Dorothy join Dean at their table. Charlie is already halfway through her roll when she sits, but she smiles bashfully and says, “I’m probably not supposed to start eating until you do.” 

“Dude, come on,” Dean says. “I’m just waiting for my drink.” 

“You read that letter yet?” Charlie says around a mouthful of potato. 

Dean blushes and says, “Not yet.” 

“What if it’s just a prenup?” Row asks with a smirk. 

“If it’s a prenup, I probably should’ve done that before the wedding,” Cas says. He’s got two beers and a glass of water in his hands and and Dean helps to get them on the table. Cas sits, then leans over to murmur into Dean’s ear, “Drink the water first.” 

Dean’s ready to skip out on the party to be surrounded by Cas’s love and touch instead. Even just laying across his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, the comfort of a hand running up and down his back or stroking his hair. 

Dean keeps that to himself and leans over to kiss Cas while the women at the table clap and whoop. Jo joins them with a smack to the back of Dean’s head and a plate piled high. “Don’t pout,” she says, “I know you can take a lot more than that.” 

Dean and Charlie both choke, Charlie on a laugh and Dean on embarrassment, and Cas squeezes his knee under the table. “I hear he’s good in a fistfight,” Cas says. 

“Probably should’ve discussed your criminal records before getting hitched, too,” Row says, her hand wrapped delicately around a glass of scotch. 

Dean rolls his eyes. Cas moves a little closer. Life has never been better. 

When they’ve finally shoved everyone out of their house, they leave their somewhat-nicer-than-usual clothes on the floor and shower together, giggling from smoke and drink and happiness. “I love you so goddamn much,” Cas whispers under the spray, and then they’re kissing again, soft and intense. 

They’re still too damp when they climb into bed, shoulder to shoulder, but neither of them notice. Cas holds up his hand, staring at his ring. 

“I know you’re not that into the marriage thing,” Dean says. “So I thought you would like something, um, less traditional.” 

Cas laughs and turns his head to face Dean. “I know you’re into the marriage thing. So I picked something more traditional.” 

Dean holds his hand next to Cas’s. “You did real good, baby.” 

“Don’t read the letter while I’m here.” 

“Ok,” Dean says, unquestioning. He knows how Cas is about people reading his writing in front of him, how he starts to pick his fingernails and chew on his lip with worry. 

“Manage your expectations. It’s not very good.” 

“Did you write a story about me?” Dean says, smiling as he kisses Cas’s shoulder. 

“No fiction in the letter, but I suppose I could write you into my next book.” 

“Nah, baby, I’m good.” 

Cas laughs and pinches Dean’s hip. “You called me ‘sir’ earlier.” 

“I was just kidding,” Dean pouts. 

“I think you were trying to misbehave.” 

“Definitely not.” 

Cas raises an eyebrow, that  _ look,  _ and Dean unsuccessfully tries to hold down a smile. 

Cas sits up on an elbow and looks down at Dean, runs his hand slowly from stomach to throat. The anticipation makes it hard to breathe, and then Cas’s hand squeezing his neck makes it even harder. 

“It was hard to decide what I was going to do to you tonight,” Cas says, his grip loosening. “For example, I could fill you up with my fist. Make you come on my face. Choke you on my cock, hurt you until you cry. Tie you up and make you beg.” 

Dean feels like he’s going to explode. Cas’s words sends possibilities careening in front of them, but Dean trusts him. Would let Cas lead him blindfolded through the world. 

“But,” Cas says, petting Dean’s hair. “None of that is what I decided.” 

“Wha—” 

“I’m not telling.” 

Dean laughs and wonders if he’ll ever want less of Cas. Less of his touch, less of his words. Because now, he’s still gulping him until his lungs are drowning. Cas kisses him, long and sweet, ending with a brush of his lips on Dean’s forehead. “Hold tight. I forgot something.”

While Cas leans over to dig through the drawer, Dean stares at his ring again. It’s perfect, a thick gold band with twin grooves circling it. It’s too nice for his work-rough skin, just like Cas is too good for him. But he’s got them both, miraculously. 

When Cas looks over at Dean, collar in his hands, his voice is wavering with uncertainty. “If you don’t like it, we can—” 

“Baby, I  _ love  _ it,” Dean says. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that I met you.” 

“Well, you’ve got the ring, but I still like this,” Cas says. Dean sits up for him to buckle it around his neck. Something about the feel of it narrows his focus to nothing but Cas. Pliant, obedient when it matters, waiting for direction. 

Cas crawls between Dean’s knees and kisses him, tugging at the O-ring on the front of Dean’s collar. Dean melts and kisses back, letting Cas set the pace. 

_ Cas, my husband  _ breaks through the haze of his thoughts.  _ Until death do us part.  _

“Hey,” Cas says, pulling away enough for them to look at each other. “Are you ok? You’re thinking too hard.” 

Dean flushes. “Trying to make myself believe that you’re my  _ husband  _ now.” 

Cas’s eyes brighten, his mouth spreading into his best big smile. “I’m feeling similarly. I know I said I didn’t care about the marriage thing, but — I’m really glad we did it.” 

Before Dean can say anything, Cas leans down to kiss him. It’s not rough or predatory the way Cas can be, but it’s still thorough and claiming, still makes Dean’s heart jump into his throat. “Mmm,” Cas hums into his cheek before moving to Dean’s neck, kissing and nipping down his neck. “I want to blindfold and cuff you.” 

“Ok,” Dean says, already panting a little. 

Dean waits, without moving, even though his dick is primed and ready for touch as soon as Cas says something like that. As soon as Cas  _ looks  _ at him with that heavy, considering gaze. 

Luckily he’s quick about it or Dean might have given in. He’s carrying the softest blindfold and lovingly-worn cuffs. Before he even makes it to the bed, Dean stretches his arms above him in anticipation. The cuffs and blindfold go on, and Dean relaxes into it, open and trusting. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Cas says. Dean can feel the warmth of his breath for too long before Cas kisses him. 

Dean knows all of Cas’s kisses. The ones that say  _ I love you,  _ the ones that say  _ I’m going to hurt you,  _ the good morning and goodnight kisses,  _ I’m scared and need you  _ kisses.  _ I’ll miss you  _ and  _ I’ve missed you.  _ And adoring kisses like now,  _ Let’s make love.  _

Dean bites his lip, hands squeezing around the slats in the headboard, as Cas covers every inch of skin with his mouth and hands. By the time he’s softly kissing the inside of Dean’s ankle, Dean is starting to vibrate out of his skin. He wants to be hit, he wants Cas’s cock in his mouth or ass, he wants to see Cas flushed with arousal. 

“Shh,” Cas murmurs, reaching up to unclip one of Dean’s wrists. “Turn over for me, please. On your stomach.” 

Dean bumps Cas pretty hard with his knee when flipping over. Cas grunts and gives a quick smack to Dean’s thigh while Dean giggles into the pillows. “Excuse me,” Cas says. He’s trying to use his hard voice like when Dean’s going to be punished, but Dean can hear the way he’s holding down a laugh. Cas bends over Dean from between his legs, nuzzles into his hair and kisses the nape of his neck. 

Cas takes his time touching and kissing everywhere he wasn’t able to before, ending with a sharp spank on each side of Dean’s ass. Dean was floating but the hits surprise him and he squeaks as he jerks against the cuffs. 

“You quit paying attention,” Cas says, teasing. 

“I was just, ya know, feeling it.” 

“Feels good?” Cas says, pressing another kiss to the small of Dean’s back. 

“Christ, yeah.” 

“So I should keep doing this instead of rimming?” 

“Baby, come on,” Dean pouts. 

“Only because you were so good for me today,” Cas says. Dean shivers at the words, and then shivers again when Cas knocks his legs wider and spreads him. 

Just the tickle of Cas’s breath at first, and after a few moments Dean arches his back, trying to entice. “Greedy,” Cas murmurs, but he circles Dean’s hole with his mouth, tongue barely flirting to touch him before he pulls back. 

“Jesus,” Dean gasps, his breath hitching in anticipation. “Come on, Cas.” 

Cas hums in response and Dean lets out a long sigh when Cas holds him down and spends what seems like hours with just his tongue. Dean is aware of words falling out of his mouth, but isn’t sure what they are. Words of love, words of pleasure. Begging, maybe, because Cas likes to wind him up like that. 

Finally Cas rubs the pad of his thumb over Dean’s hole, pressing just enough for him to start to open. “Look at you,” Cas says, pushing his thumb all the way in. Dean’s so wet and relaxed from Cas’s mouth, but it’s just dry enough to make him whimper. 

“Flip over again,” Cas says. 

“You’re so indecisive,” Dean says even as he obeys. 

“That’s my prerogative,” Cas says. “Unless you want to take off your collar and start making demands.” 

Dean rolls his eyes under the blindfold. “That’s not really my thing.” 

“I know it’s not. That’s why it’s a threat.” Cas is laughing when he tries to kiss Dean, and between that and Dean’s grin —  _ this is my  _ ** _husband_ ** — it’s more a clash of smiles and teeth than a kiss. After they manage a real kiss, Cas says, “Do you want the blindfold and cuffs off?” 

“I wanna touch you.”

The blindfold comes off first, and Dean blinks until Cas comes into focus, gorgeous and tousled.  _ My husband,  _ Dean thinks, and as soon as his hands are free, he jerks Cas down into a kiss, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Cas kisses back with a gentle ferocity that makes Dean tremble, makes him submit. 

Cas fumbles for the lube, hidden away in a drawer for once, and Dean smiles and curls his fingers in his hair. “I didn’t know doms could be clumsy.” 

Cas comes out with lube in hand and grins. “The anti-clumsy clause isn’t in play since you don’t call me ‘sir.’” 

Even while they’re laughing together, Cas slicks his cock. He starts to work into Dean with slow, shallow thrusts, tugging against Dean’s rim with every stroke. “Oh, fuck,” Dean breathes out, already past the point where he can tease. 

“Good?” Cas asks, mouthing along Dean’s jaw, nuzzling into his cheek. Dean turns his head for a kiss, gasping into it when Cas grabs his hip to adjust the angle. 

Cas takes him with a slow intensity, murmuring love into his skin in between kisses. Dean’s hands start to wander up and down his back, digging in when the angle is just right, when the kiss is particularly good. Cas is strong and solid under his touch. 

“Touch yourself,” Cas says, his mouth still just a whisper away from Dean’s. Dean manages to get a hand between them, knuckles brushing along Cas’s stomach with every stroke. “Good boy.” 

Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever stop blushing when Cas says it. In five years, in a decade, in a lifetime, he’ll still glow under Cas’s love. Cas just watches his face, running his thumb over Dean’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Tell me when you’re close.” 

Dean nods and lifts his head to steal a kiss. “A little — just a little more.” 

“Like this?” Cas says, his next thrust sharp. 

“Christ, yes.” 

Cas’s smile goes a little feral, his hand landing around Dean’s throat. “Can I?” 

Dean nods, stroking his cock faster to match Cas’s rhythm. “Oh fuck — I — close,” he manages to get out, and Cas squeezes, slowly taking away his air. 

Dean doesn’t fight the undertow as it pulls him down, drowning and glad for it as he comes in long streaks up his stomach. Cas doesn’t let go until after he throbs deep inside Dean, coming with a soft groan. 

In the aftermath, they both gasp for air, Dean’s chest heaving. 

“Jesus, I love you,” Dean says. 

Cas laughs and collapses next to him. “Are you happy? With today?” 

“Are you? You were the one freaking out about flowers for months.” 

Cas smiles. He looks gorgeous in the low light, hair an even wilder mess than usual, mouth swollen from kissing. “It was perfect. This is a really great day to be alive.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling shyly. “It really is.” 

Cas grabs Dean’s hand and turns his head to kiss the ball of his shoulder. “I think in a few minutes, I’ll go out to the living room so you can read the thing.” 

“That you wrote for me?” 

Cas blushes. “Yes, that thing. Would you like some coffee?”

“Baby, the reason you can’t sleep is because you drink coffee all night.” 

“The reason I can’t sleep is because of a chemical imbalance —” 

“Caused by caffeine, probably.” 

Cas glares but is the one to back down first with a smile. “I’m making coffee and will be back in a bit.” 

Dean doesn’t move, just stares as Cas goes to the bathroom, as Cas wipes him down, as Cas walks bare towards the kitchen. The letter is on Dean’s bedside table, but he sits up and just stares at the envelope for too long before he actually opens it. 

It’s handwritten, and Dean is glad he’s learned the code of Cas’s scrawl. It’s dated, which is dorky as hell. Dean realizes he’s putting off reading the letter and forces himself to start. 

_ My darling,  _

_ I’ve never struggled more with words than I am now. I don’t know how to explain the way I feel about you. The way you’re in my veins. The way I never wanted to build a life until I met you. The way you’ve held me through hell itself.  _

_ I started falling in love with you the first time we met. You blushed when I looked at you, and I was floating downward. I loved who you were then, no matter how much it hurt for you to walk away every night. I love who you are now, a man I’m proud to call my husband, and I’ll love every future iteration of you that I haven’t met yet, till death do us part. _

_ Every day with you is better than the last, so today was the best day of my life — but I know tomorrow will be even better. I can’t wait.  _

_ I love you more, my most perfect possession.  _

_ Cas _

Dean wasn’t going to cry, but some of the words start to blur as his tears fall. He folds up the letter carefully and tucks it back into the envelope before scrubbing his hand over his face. When he looks up, Cas is standing in the doorway, knuckles white around the handle of his favorite mug. He looks apprehensive. 

“Get over here,” Dean says, and a small smile passes across Cas’s face. 

Cas approaches and Dean waits until his coffee is safely on the nightstand before throwing his arms around him and pulling him into the bed. There’s a short, laughing tussle, but Dean ends up leaning over Cas to leave tickling kisses all over Cas’s face. Cas puts up with it for a minute before putting his hand over Dean’s mouth to stop him. 

“I love you more than anything,” Cas says, “but you better stop that so you can get some rest. You haven’t even packed yet.” 

“I’m a quick packer,” Dean says, muffled behind Cas’s hand. 

“Lay down and cuddle me.” 

Dean mostly follows Cas’s instructions, so then they’re nose-to-nose under the blankets, lamp off to leave them in blind darkness. Cas gives him a soft, goodnight kiss. 

“I love you,” Cas murmurs, close and warm. 

“You too,” Dean says. 

The coffee is forgotten, Cas’s arm around Dean’s waist getting heavier. Just before Dean truly falls asleep, he’s a little awed to remember that he just married the love of his life. 


	2. GENERALLY TOLERABLE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Cas sees Dean and forgets how to breathe. That’s certainly the case when he walks into their bedroom and sees Dean kneeling on a pillow next to the bed, hands clasped behind his back. 
> 
> “Good boy,” Cas says, and Dean makes that small noise he often does, like it’s both a surprise and delight to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com)
> 
> there are at least three more chapters, but no timeline for finishing/posting. sometime in my lifetime, presumably.

Dean opens the door before Cas manages to put the rental car into park. Cas watches through the windshield as Dean stares at the cabin, and then the woods surrounding them, and then the lake, just visible through the leaves. 

Cas’s breath catches — not because of the scenery, but because of Dean, golden and gorgeous in the evening light. He finally gets out and circles the car to press against Dean’s back, hands sliding around his middle. “It’s prettier than I hoped,” Cas says. 

“This is amazing, baby. And we’re far enough out that no one would ever find my body after you cut me into pieces.” 

Cas kisses the back of Dean’s neck, squeezing him closer. “It’s for the life insurance.” 

“Well, before all of that.” Dean turns in Cas’s arms, close enough that their noses bump. “This house is huge. Let’s get in there and map all the surfaces we can fuck on this week.” 

Cas lets Dean lead him into the house by the hand. The house is decidedly huge and amazing, but even better is Dean’s smile as they take a tour. 

The loft is an expansive single room, surrounded by windows overlooking their little cove and the lake beyond. The light is fading rapidly, but Cas is pretty sure he sees some ducks on the water.

He turns away from the view and Dean is off to the side at a bookcase, running his fingers along the spines. “Hey, these people have great taste,” Dean says, pulling out a worn copy of  _ Black Dog  _ and wiggling it at Cas. “You should sign it for ‘em.” 

“Put it back, please,” Cas says, arms crossed. “I need to talk to you about some things.” 

Dean slides the book back onto the shelf slowly, staring at Cas. “Sexy things?” 

“Yes, sexy things.” 

Dean laughs and pulls Cas close for a kiss. “Awesome.” 

They head back down to the kitchen and sit on bar stools next to each other with beers while waiting for their food to cook. Their knees bump and Dean keeps looking at Cas’s ring. 

“I would like you to wear your collar this week.” 

“I woulda been mad if you didn’t,” Dean says. 

“Let me finish.” Cas gives Dean the look that makes him flush such a pretty pink. “I want you to wear your collar, signifying that you belong to me in every way until you take it off. You’ll be available for anything I want at all times. You’ll let me take care of you.” 

Dean’s flush deepens and Cas forces away a smile. “Ok,” Dean says. 

“You will  _ behave.”  _

“Yeah, for sure.” 

“I have some new things I’d like to try. You need to tell me if you don’t like it.” Cas squeezes Dean’s knee, holds eye contact. “After dinner, I’ll do the dishes, and I’d like to see you on your knees wearing only your panties.” 

“Ok,” Dean says. 

Dean picks at his food for a minute, then declares himself finished and heads to the bedroom. Even alone in the kitchen, Cas can’t stop smiling. It’s just around 24 hours since they married, but it’s still a little hard to believe. A mortgage is a pretty serious commitment on its own, but it’s not a ring and vows. It’s not  _ Castiel James Winchester.  _

He takes his time, lets Dean’s anticipation build. He makes a stop in one of the other bedrooms to grab a new toy, wrapped in a nondescript bag. The TSA agent had given him a  _ look  _ as the small suitcase full of toys was scanned, but luckily Dean was too nervous about the flight to notice. 

Sometimes Cas sees Dean and forgets how to breathe. That’s certainly the case when he walks into their bedroom and sees Dean kneeling on a pillow next to the bed, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Good boy,” Cas says, and Dean makes that small noise he often does, like it’s both a surprise and delight to hear it. 

Dean is hard and straining against the lace, just like Cas expected. Cas tosses the bag on the bed with a thump and bends down to kiss Dean’s forehead. “You’re so beautiful,” Cas says. “I love you.” 

“You too,” Dean says, a little breathless already. 

Cas steps out of his clothes, already stroking his cock before his shirt hits the ground. Dean’s lips part and his eyes drift from Cas’s face, down his chest and past his stomach to his cock. He licks his lips, and Cas smiles. He loves Dean’s eagerness, his greediness. Sometimes he thinks about how eager Dean was even the first time he sucked Cas’s cock. Eager and shy, smiling and blushing. 

Cas rubs the tip of his cock along Dean’s lower lip and Dean opens his mouth without being told. Cas hums appreciatively, guiding the head of his cock past Dean’s lips. “Keep your hands behind your back.” He assumes Dean’s muffled answer is an agreement. 

Cas keeps it slow at first, watching for the moment when Dean goes pliant and hazy and gives himself over completely. It doesn’t take long, and Cas’s hand moves from stroking his hair to gripping it in his fist. 

“Take a breath, sweetheart.” Once Dean fills his lungs, Cas fucks forward. No part of Dean fights him as he buries his cock down Dean’s throat. “You can take more.” 

Dean flutters his eyes up to Cas’s face as Cas holds his head still, pushing until his nose is touching the wiry hair surrounding Cas’s cock. “Good boy,” Cas murmurs, running his thumb over Dean’s cheek. 

It’s getting close to Dean’s limit, so Cas pulls out slowly, Dean breathing hard through his nose. Before his breathing slows, Cas starts to fuck his mouth, not so deep, but rough. Cas watches Dean’s lips, so pink and pretty wrapped around his cock. Watches a tear, and then two, streak down Dean’s cheeks. Loves him desperately. 

Cas’s orgasm rips through him with a flash of heat. He pulls out of Dean’s mouth while it’s happening, until the last of his come coats Dean’s lips. Dean tries to lick it off, but some of it drips down to join the sheen of spit on his chin. 

“That was lovely. Thank you.” Cas says, and Dean smiles. “Go clean up your face.” 

Dean stumbles a bit when standing, his muscles trembling and knees probably sore. Cas is pleased to see that the front of his panties is soaked with precome, the head of his cock peeking out from behind lace. 

When Dean returns, Cas pulls him into a kiss and says, “Unfortunately, I need you to take off your panties. Hands and knees on the bed.” 

Cas watches the curve of Dean’s ass as he pulls off his panties. It’s a shame — it feels good for Dean to wear them, and Cas wants nothing more than to make him feel good. Dean crawls into the bed and  _ presents _ to Cas, spine in an arch to show off his ass. Cas laughs and says, “Are you hoping for something?” 

“Hoping…” Dean sighs, softly, when Cas places a hand on his lower back. “Hoping you’re gonna put something in me.” 

“Interesting,” Cas says, circling the pad of his thumb around Dean’s hole. “Luckily for you, that is the plan.” 

Cas settles in between Dean’s legs, running his hands over the bruises he left and not chastising when Dean drops his head down to rest on crossed arms. Dean shivers when he hears the cap of the lube pop open. “Oh, you want it that bad?” Cas says, and Dean nods against his arms. 

Regardless of how Cas acts, it’s impossible to deny Dean anything. He slicks up his fingers and slides two in as deep as he can. Dean gasps, a sound punched out of him, as Cas starts to leisurely finger him, staring at the stretch of Dean’s hole. Cas thinks about the size of the toy — and pushes in another finger. It’s slow enough that Dean doesn’t cry out, just curls his toes while he struggles for breath. Just because Cas is curious about how he’ll react, he pushes his pinky in along with the other fingers. 

“Oh — oh god — are we doing that tonight?” 

_ That.  _ Cas’s hand curled inside of Dean up to his wrist. Dean losing his mind, coming without his cock being touched. Cas hadn’t thought of  _ that,  _ and he hesitates before deciding to go with his original plan. Dean will still lose his mind. 

“No,” Cas says. “Have you been thinking of it?” 

“Someti—” Dean interrupts himself, crying out when Cas twists his fingers just right. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cas says, slowly pulling his fingers out. “But not for tonight. Close your eyes.” 

Dean obeys immediately. Cas pulls the toy out of the paper bag and coats it in lube. It’s not a fist, but it’s the biggest toy they have, longer and a lot thicker than Cas’s cock. He presses the head of the dildo against Dean’s hole. It’s the kind that’s supposed to feel like human skin, realistic with a vein running underneath. 

Dean opens for it easier than Cas expected, even after four fingers. “Oh god,” Dean whispers as the head of it pushes past his rim. 

“Good?” Cas says, squeezing Dean’s hip. 

“Christ, yes.” 

Cas takes his time, watching as Dean takes the toy, bit by bit. The deeper it goes, the more Dean whimpers, shifting a bit like he wants to take more. Like he thinks there’s more to take. 

“You know,” Cas says, pulling the dildo out, all the way until the head tugs at Dean. “I think you could take anything. My lovely whore.”

Cas slides the toy all the way in again, deep, and then starts to fuck Dean with it.  _ “Cas,”  _ he gasps. 

“Good boy.” 

Dean gets louder the harder Cas fucks him and he starts to rock his hips back into it. Cas’s arm is starting to ache, but he knows what Dean’s high-pitched sounds mean. “Harder,” Dean manages to get out. Cas gives him what he wants, and it doesn’t take much longer until Dean groans  _ Cas  _ right before his whole body tenses as he comes. Cas keeps fucking him until the orgasm passes through, marveling that Dean always comes the hardest with something inside him. 

Cas pulls the dildo out and runs his finger around Dean’s twitching hole, smiling. Even when he steps off the bed, Dean doesn’t move. His eyes are still closed but he has that dreamy smile on again. 

“You can open your eyes,” Cas says. 

Dean blinks up at him and says, voice rough, “That was awesome.” 

“Yes, it was. Shower?” 

“If I can move sometime in the next decade. You paralyzed me.” 

Cas laughs and tugs at his hair. “I’ll start the shower and come get you when it’s hot.” 

The water warms up quicker than Cas expected. He finds Dean flopped on his side, looking at his ring again. He gives Cas a guilty look and Cas says, “I’m so glad you like it.” 

“I like  _ you,”  _ Dean says. “Jewelry or not.” 

“I find you to be generally tolerable,” Cas says, taking Dean’s hand to pull him out of bed. “Jewelry or not.”


	3. WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun is warm and they lay perpendicular on the dock, Cas’s head pillowed on Dean’s stomach and Dean’s on a foam float. Everything feels still and calm, surrounded by the sound of birdsong, the occasional splash of a fish in the lake, leaves rustling together. Dean’s stomach rises and falls with his breath and he pets Cas’s hair absently. 
> 
> This is what Cas wanted when he booked their honeymoon. Just them, far away from the real world. Intimate, belonging to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to be clear, there is zero plot to this fic. 
> 
> thanks to [oriana,](https://generaldeliciousness.tumblr.com/) who may or may not be catherine zeta jones.

Cas wakes up before Dean, limbs draped over him to hold him close. He could get up and start coffee, but he doesn’t move for a long time, just enjoying the rise and fall of Dean’s chest under his arm. With the endless mundanities of daily life — laundry, errands, paying bills — it can become too easy to gloss over appreciating Dean. His husband. Until death do them part, later rather than sooner. 

Dean shifts, turns his head to press his face into Cas’s hair. “Mornin’, baby,” Dean mumbles. 

“Breakfast? I can make French toast.” 

“You always burn it,” Dean says, a little more awake. “I’ll do it in a minute.” 

“I’ll get the coffee going,” Cas says. He leaves a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek on his way out of bed.

It’s a good thing Cas volunteered, because it’s the single-serving kind that has more than two buttons, which Dean has an irrational hate for. Sure enough — when Dean shows up in only a pair of boxers and his collar, he scowls at it. “I hate those things.” 

“I know,” Cas says, passing a mug over to Dean in the hope of distracting him. “Just drink it.” 

Dean takes a sip, and then starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge and pantry. “How did you even get all this food here?” 

“The magic of the modern world,” Cas says, hopping up on the counter to watch Dean, swinging his legs. “There’s weed, too.” 

“You didn’t smoke last night.” 

Cas can’t help it, slides off the counter to press himself against Dean’s back, kisses the back of his neck just below the collar. “You may recall I was a little distracted, but I’ll go grab us some.” 

They meet at the table on the front deck for breakfast. Afterwards they pass a pipe back and forth in silence, just watching the trees and listening to birdsong. 

When the bowl is cashed, Cas gets up and tugs at the arm of Dean’s chair. “Sit,” he says when Dean hops to his feet. With Dean sitting and facing away from the table, Cas goes to his knees. The wood is hard and creaks as it settles underneath him.

Dean’s eyes widen and his lips part, and he lifts his hips so Cas can pull his sweatpants down to his thighs, revealing his cock. Cas nuzzles and kisses his stomach first, happy as always to feel the way he’s softened in some places since they met, plush from lazy Sunday cuddles and late night munchies. Love looks good on him. 

Cas can feel the weight of Dean’s gaze as he stares down at him, goosebumps flooding across Dean’s skin when Cas takes his mostly-soft cock into his mouth. It gets harder as Cas licks and gently sucks, growing to fit into his mouth, and twitches against his tongue when Cas reaches up to twist one of Dean’s nipples. 

“Shit, Cas,” Dean breathes out, and Cas hums happily around him, rubbing a hand up his thigh. 

In his periphery, Cas sees one of Dean’s hands reach for his shoulder, but pulls back at the last moment. Cas slides off of Dean’s cock to say, “You can touch me. In fact —” He grabs Dean’s hand and puts it on the back of his neck. “I want you to take what you need.” 

Dean swallows, tightens his fingers in Cas’s hair. Cas wraps his lips around just the tip of his cock, and it’s just that for a moment, just the tease of suction. Dean groans, quietly, more out of frustration than pleasure. Cas just waits him out until Dean finally presses down, guiding Cas to take him deeper. 

Dean keeps pushing and Cas relaxes to take him, all the way down, and then further when Dean’s hips hitch upwards. Dean moans, curses, pulls Cas halfway back up by his hair. Cas pointedly ignores his own cock tenting his pants. 

Dean thrusts up into Cas’s willing mouth, and then again, and again, until he’s fucking deep against the back of Cas’s throat. Dean starts whispering, “Cas, Cas, Cas,” and shoves Cas hard to the base of his cock, holding him there as he comes. 

Dean doesn’t let him up right away, waits until Cas’s eyes are tearing and the lack of air sets him alight. Dean’s hand changes to petting through Cas’s hair, but Cas stays down, swallowing around the head of Dean’s cock. 

“Holy — holy fuck,” Dean gasps. “Jesus Christ.” 

Dean’s starting to soften as Cas raises his head, panting for air. The first thing Cas says is, “I love you.” 

Dean laughs, the kind of sex-stoned laugh that rolls over his entire body. “I love you too, baby. But I’m only saying it because you just sucked my brain out of my dick.” 

“I don’t think that’s anatomically possible.” 

Cas stands to loom over Dean, looking at him consideringly. Cas reaches into his own pants and starts to stroke his cock, laughing a little when Dean’s eyes dart down to watch. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Dean whines, and then he yelps when Cas smacks him. It’s not even hard, but somehow Cas caught him by surprise. 

“I’ll laugh if I want,” Cas says. Dean flinches when he caresses his cheek, then closes his eyes and leans into the soft touch. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” 

And he is: the sun is at the right angle to brighten the green of his eyes, showcase the freckles on his skin, glint off the gold strands in his hair. He has that well-owned, in-awe expression, like he trusts Cas to catch him if he falls too far. Cas never even imagined he could love someone like this. 

Cas gives his cock one last squeeze and says, “Let’s go down to the dock.” 

“But —” 

“Are we doing what  _ you _ want, or what I want?” 

“What you want,” Dean says, blushing. 

“Then we’re going to put on shirts and go down to the dock.” 

The sun is warm and they lay perpendicular on the dock, Cas’s head pillowed on Dean’s stomach and Dean’s on a foam float. Everything feels still and calm, surrounded by the sound of birdsong, the occasional splash of a fish in the lake, leaves rustling together. Dean’s stomach rises and falls with his breath and he pets Cas’s hair absently. 

This is what Cas wanted when he booked their honeymoon. Just them, far away from the real world. Intimate, belonging to each other. 

Cas drops his book on his chest, stretched open and face down to hold his place. He thought his French would come back like riding a bicycle, but it’s a struggle. Instead, he turns his head to scowl at the copy of  _ Black Dog  _ in Dean’s hands. It’s the original cover, the ugly one from back when Cas had even less influence than now on what his books look like. 

Like Dean can sense his disgruntlement, he puts the book to the side so they can look at each other. “Got somethin’ to say?” Dean says with a smirking smile. 

“Yes. I’d like to go back in time and tell myself to write a better book.” 

Dean laughs. “Come on, baby. I think it’s great.” 

“You have terrible taste.” 

“Shut up,” Dean says. “Plus, it’s cool to see how your writing has changed.” 

“How’s that?” 

“I dunno. Your first books were all about monsters. Like you were — scared.” 

Cas stares upward at the nearly-cloudless sky. “I suppose I was.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re really good. But you don’t write like you’re so scared anymore.” 

“You’re right. There’s less to be afraid of now.” 

“Other than climate change.” 

“I’m occasionally concerned about what dolphins have planned for us, too.” 

Dean tugs at his hair, laughing, and says, “Get up here and kiss me.” 

“I don’t appreciate you giving me orders,” Cas says as he sits up, “but I do really like to kiss you, so I’ll allow it.” 

Still, he leans just close enough to bump their noses together, sharing breath without their mouths touching. Dean knows better than to lift his head up to steal the kiss, just waits. “Good boy,” Cas murmurs, brushing their lips together. 

Dean reaches to squeeze Cas’s thigh and parts his lips to welcome a full kiss. Cas doesn’t think he’ll ever deserve this, Dean so soft underneath him, small noises escaping into his mouth. 

“Hey,” Cas says, still too close to see anything but the smattering of freckles across Dean’s cheek. “I love you.” 

“You know, we’ve been pretty grossly sappy for awhile, but I think it’s progressed to weapon-of-mass-destruction level.” 

Cas taps his cheek, laughing. “I guess I’ll have to stop showing affection until it’s back to containable levels.” 

“Forget I said anything,” Dean says before Cas even finishes the sentence. “Strike from the record.” 

“We’ll see,” Cas says, and then kisses him again. The weather-worn wood under his knees is uncomfortable, but kissing Dean under the sunshine is worth it. 

The rest of the day is lazy, nestled together on the couch with a movie marathon, beer, and smoke. In the silent moments as  _ Last Crusade  _ loads, Dean says, “I’m sorry for the way I acted after we met. I wasn’t good to you.” 

Cas frowns over at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I was ashamed. You deserve better.” 

“Ok,” Cas says slowly. “Ashamed, yes. But do you remember that time I had that really bad flu? You made me go to urgent care.” 

“You were delirious!” 

Cas was, but stubbornly refusing to leave his couch. Dean wrapped his arm around him in the waiting room without thinking about it, then took Cas back to Dean’s apartment to make him soup and hover over him. 

“You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You were good to me.” 

Dean looks down to where Cas’s hand is on his thigh. “Anyone woulda done that.” 

“Honey, I’ve had a lot of hookups, and none of them would’ve.” Cas leans over to leave a lingering kiss on his cheek. “You used to feed me —” 

“I’m always cooking anyway. Not like that’s special.” 

“Dean.” Cas’s tone is firm enough that Dean glances upwards at him. “You learned vegetarian recipes.” 

“You shouldn’ta put up with my stupid ‘straight’ ass.” 

“I like your ass, heterosexual or otherwise.” 

Dean glares. Cas can see that his urge is to shove at his shoulder, but doesn’t want to invite punishment. Cas smiles and murmurs, “Good boy.” 

Dean blushes. Indiana Jones is loud in the background, but Cas can’t take his eyes off of Dean. His  _ husband.  _

They eat dinner outside, surrounded by twilight. Dean does the dishes, because Cas has some toys to unpack. He leaves coils of pink rope on the bed but hides the others in the nightstand. 

Dean looks curiously at the bed when he comes in, two beers and a pipe in his hands. “Rope?” 

“Can I tie you up?” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

Cas takes two steps to get close. Kisses him, long and slow. Says quietly, “I have a rule. It’s not negotiable.” 

Dean’s eyes widen and he licks his lips. 

“If you’re uncomfortable with the ropes at any point, you are required to tell me. Tingling, cramps, even chafing. My other plans can work without them.” 

“Ok,” Dean says. “Promise.” 

Cas kisses him again, fierce this time, and they fumble with each other’s clothes until Cas has Dean laid out on the bed, looking him over. Dean hates when Cas inspects him like this, but he loves it too, based on the way his cock hardens further. Dean gasps when Cas brushes his fingertips down the underside and gives a soft squeeze to his balls. “I think you’re going to enjoy yourself very much tonight.” 

“I sure hope so,” Dean says with a grin. 

“You’re not going to goad me into anything with your smart mouth this time,” Cas says, starting with the rope. He concentrates hard on the ties, reviewing the instructions in his head with each movement. 

“Since when do you know fancy bondage stuff?” Dean says. His eyes are already half-lidded from Cas’s careful touches.

Cas presses a soft kiss to his mouth. “I took some classes.” 

Dean nods and is quiet while Cas works, flexing against the ropes when requested, lifting his legs when prodded, blushing all the way down to his chest when he’s trussed up and on display, knees pulled up and open with his arms bound to his legs. 

Cas stares. The pink ropes entwined over Dean’s skin is prettier than any of his panties. “Do you like the pink rope?” 

Dean flushes and shrugs as much as he can in his bindings. “Yeah. It’s good.” 

“I like it a lot.” 

“I noticed,” Dean says, glancing at where Cas’s cock is mostly hard. 

“Close your eyes, and keep them closed until I tell you otherwise.” 

Dean nods and squeezes his eyes shut. It seems strange to Cas, to feel such an aching-deep love for someone immobile and vulnerable, waiting to be used, but maybe that’s just because he’s never fucked someone he loves before so he doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like at all. 

Cas climbs into the bed between Dean’s splayed legs. Dean may be embarrassed to be on display with no way to hide, but Cas thrills in it, his mind spinning with all the ways he could make Dean feel good. How he could fill his hole with fingers or tongue or cock or toys. How he could play with Dean’s cock with mouth or hands or toys or, with some rope adjustments, ride him until Cas feels the hot throb of him coming deep inside. 

“I want to make you come. Don’t hold back,” Cas says, and bends to suck Dean’s cock into his mouth. 

One of the benefits of being with the same person for more than a few fucks is that Cas has had a chance to find out all the buttons to push, all the tricks that work every time. It’s not too often that a quick-and-dirty blowjob is required, but Cas can do it when necessary. 

After Dean comes, Cas leans up to kiss him, pushing some of it into Dean’s mouth, then pulling back to watch him swallow. “Good boy,” Cas says. “That was perfect. Don’t open your eyes, and don’t hold back.” 

Dean opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something, then changes his mind. His cock is starting to soften but twitches at the sound of Cas lubing up his fingers. Dean’s breath catches as Cas slides one, and then two, into him, watching him stretch open to take it, and he somehow manages to pick up the nipple clamps with his other hand without the chain clinking, so Dean jerks in surprise when the first one squeezes about his nipple, then lets out a slow breath as the second one is applied. 

“Does that feel good?” Cas murmurs, turning to press a kiss to Dean’s knee, between the pattern of pink ropes holding his arms and legs together. 

“Yes,” Dean breathes. 

Cas pushes in a third finger, entranced by the way Dean tenses against the bindings. He’s more entranced by the way Dean whines as Cas starts to fuck him with his fingers, leisurely because they have all the time in the world. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers. “Please.” 

“Please what?” Cas knows just where to touch to make Dean tremble and beg, and he crooks his fingers to press over it with each stroke. Dean’s back arches as he tries to ride down onto Cas’s hand, a fruitless effort when tied. 

“Please fuck me.” 

“If you’re good, I’ll consider it,” Cas says. He switches to shallower thrusts that are mostly just grinding to rub over that sweet spot, watching Dean squirm, watching his mouth open around gasps. 

Sooner than Cas expected, Dean cries out, tightening around Cas’s fingers, shuddering hard and then going completely lax, gasping for breath. A few lone drops of come hit Dean’s belly. “Good boy,” Cas says. “You even kept your eyes closed.” 

A small, pleased smile touches Dean’s mouth, like Cas has given him a gift with those two words. “That was so good. Thank you, Dean,” Cas says, watching Dean’s hole flutter closed as he pulls his fingers out. 

Dean licks his lips, but his voice still comes out uneven. “You’re welcome.” 

“I hope I’ll be thanking you more tonight,” Cas says, pulling another new toy out of the nightstand and getting out the lube again. Dean makes a small noise that makes Cas glance up at his face. “Are you ok, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, still shaky. “I think I came again so that’s — that’s good.” 

“Are the ropes ok?” 

Cas is glad to see Dean take a moment to think, to test the pull of them. “Not sure my hips can handle this much longer.” He sounds regretful about it, and Cas smiles. A good experiment. “And I want —” The toy goes in easy, smaller than what they usually play with. “Wanna see you — Jesus —” 

They had a vibrator already, and it doesn’t come out often. But this one is better, curved and with more options than could possibly be necessary. After Cas tried it out himself, it was almost impossible to keep from using it on Dean right away, already imagining the noises he might make. Dean doesn’t disappoint with the way he whines and jerks against the ropes when the vibrator hums to life. 

“You can open your eyes,” Cas says. He likes the way Dean’s eyes go a little dazed when he’s laid himself bare at Cas’s feet. He’s still a little awed by Dean’s trust in him. 

“Cas — Cas —” 

Dean’s words cut off into a noise like a sob and Cas puts a hand on his ankle, squeezes. “Ok, sweetheart?” 

Dean nods, and Cas says, “Good. Relax.” 

There’s a pulsing pattern on the vibrator like an engine coming to life, a low grumble rising in intensity until it’s just a few seconds of a flat buzzing, and then repeating back to the beginning. Dean sags in relief at first, tenses again as the hum crescendos, squirms as it flattens like it’s almost too much, but not enough to stop. Cas watches the rhythm of Dean’s body, the jump of his stomach muscles, the half-moons his fingernails are biting into his shins, the way his mouth falls open to spill out whines and gasps and begs. 

Cas watches, waits, then presses a button to change the setting to a higher vibration in a  _ bzz-bzz-bzz  _ busy signal pattern. Dean wails and clenches around the toy and Cas reaches up, jerking the chain between the nipple clamps so they both come off. 

They’ve been on long enough that it hurts. A lot, Cas knows, and Dean makes a noise like a scream that he’d be embarrassed about if he knew, and then he comes again, shuddering through it. Aftershocks keep running through him even after Cas has turned the toy off and slipped it out of him. 

“That was beautiful,” Cas says, leaning to press a soft kiss to Dean’s pretty pink mouth. “Thank you.”

“Please,” Dean whispers, hoarse. “I c-can’t —” 

“Shh, I know. You were perfect. Let me untie you.” 

Dean nods sluggishly and closes his eyes while Cas works, pink rope slipping over Dean’s skin. There are the prettiest indentations left behind and Cas wants to kiss each one. In gratitude, maybe. 

Dean drops his limbs to the bed but otherwise doesn’t move, a tremble running through him every now and then. “Dean?” Cas murmurs, running his fingers through Dean’s sweat-damp hair. “Are you ok?” 

Dean nods and gives Cas a tired half-smile, eyes still closed. 

“Do you need anything? Water?” 

Dean shakes his head, reaching out to wrap his hand around Cas’s forearm and slurring, “Gonna fuck me?”

“Do you want me to?” Cas asks. After a beat, Dean grimaces. “That’s what I thought.” 

Cas lays down and pulls Dean into his arms, stroking his hair. Dean’s still shaking, and Cas just holds him close, murmuring poetry.  _ “Long before eternity, I caught a glimpse/of your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes…”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long before eternity, I caught a glimpse  
of your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes.  
And I've been lonely for you from that instant.  
That loneliness appeared on earth as this body.  
And my share of time has been nothing  
but your name outrunning my ever saying it clearly.  
_from li-young lee's [i loved you before i was born](https://poets.org/poem/i-loved-you-i-was-born)_


	4. REALITY CHECK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean would’ve met a woman. Married her, built a white-picket fence, never felt shame. A woman who is soft and sweet and doesn’t hurt him for fun or put him in a collar like she has the right to own him. A woman who would never refer to him as a possession.

The last day of the trip, Cas wakes up before night has turned to morning, restless with a drumbeat in his head. Dean is warm and lovely beside him, facing away, and Cas allows himself a single kiss on the back of his shoulder before slipping out of bed.

He takes a mug of coffee and a joint out to the deck. Surrounded by the song of crickets and swaying leaves, he sips and smokes. 

He wonders where he and Dean would be now if they hadn’t met. Cas, a lonely haunting of a person, doing what he can to feel anything but fear and sadness. Drugs, sleeping around with anyone who will have him, writing books about monsters and isolation. Or maybe Gabe would end up breaking into his computer and send whatever’s left of his writing to the publisher for posthumous publication. 

Dean would’ve met a woman. Married her, built a white-picket fence, never felt shame. A woman who is soft and sweet and doesn’t hurt him for fun or put him in a collar like she has the right to own him. A woman who would never refer to him as a possession.

Cas drops his head in his hands, taking deep breaths and trying to remember the way Dean smiles at him. Or even the way he crosses his arms and his voice goes low when they’re arguing, because Dean doesn’t yell, because they’ve both had enough of that in their lives. 

Cas is still trying to remind himself to breathe when the sliding door snicks open. “Cas?” Dean says, rough with sleep. Before Cas can even lift his head, Dean’s running fingers through his hair. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

Cas rubs a hand across his face and then sits up so he can see Dean in the glowing moonlight. Dean must see something in his expression, because he pulls one of the chairs closer and sits so their knees are touching. “Talk to me,” Dean says, leaning towards Cas. 

“I wondered,” Cas starts. Swallows, tries again. “I wondered what it would be like for you. If we hadn’t met.” 

“Pretty shitty,” Dean says, the quirk of a smile on his lips. 

“You wouldn’t — no one would hurt you the way I do.” 

“Reality check,” Dean says. “Whatever your brain is telling you about us, it’s a lie, ok?” 

Cas nods but isn’t entirely convinced. It feels true. It feels like a chasm opening under his feet. 

Dean rubs both hands up and down Cas’s thighs. “Come back to bed so I can cuddle you. And try to smoke you back to sleep, because it’s fucking early and my honeymoon shouldn’t involve waking up at four a.m.” 

Cas’s urge is to decline, to stay separated, but he couldn’t stand the way Dean’s eyes would fill with hurt. He stands. Dean grabs the joint but they leave the coffee behind and crawl into bed together, Dean pressed close with his head on Cas’s shoulder and arm draped across him. 

“I have to be honest,” Cas says, then pauses to hit the joint and pass it back to Dean. “I don’t know that I’ll ever stop wondering if my next ‘episode’ is the one where you decide I’m not worth the trouble.” 

Dean says, quiet in the near dark, “Cas, have you ever wanted to hurt me?” 

“Of course not,” Cas says, without even thinking about it. 

“I’ve definitely wanted to murder you because you load the dishwasher wrong, so you should be more afraid of that than me runnin’ off because you’re kinda nuts.” 

Cas pinches Dean’s side, and he doesn’t have to look down to know the kind of grin Dean is wearing. “That’s for wanting to murder me  _ and  _ calling me nuts.” 

“Look,” Dean says, nestling under Cas’s chin, “both of us could use about a hundred years of therapy. Doesn’t change that I want to be with you, all the way up to nursing home bondage.”

Cas huffs a laugh and rests his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, the cool glint of the buckle and soft brown leather of the collar under his hands. It’s real, it’s grounding. “I adore you.” 

“I adore you more,” Dean says, already more than half asleep. 

“Reality check,” Cas whispers, even though Dean probably won’t hear him. “That’s not possible.” 


	5. BANANANA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know it’s a dick move to do this without even talking to you but — it just —” Cas is staring at the kitten. “It just happened,” Dean says lamely, gesturing at the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to oriana and soloarcana for looking over this one for me <3 
> 
> [photo reference](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d6d8055449849d6fc0825f49ee4d1a4b/34f7b47a0ae93e61-ea/s1280x1920/eed3d6411fd94b2422a8b4488f3042fbdd245920.jpg)

Dean listens to Cas come in the door, kick off his shoes, hang up his keys, but he’s also listening to a tiny purr machine sleeping tucked up against his neck. 

“Ok,” Dean rushes as soon as Cas comes into the living room, “I know it’s a dick move to do this without even talking to you but — it just —” Cas is staring at the kitten. “It just happened,” Dean says lamely, gesturing at the cat. 

“You… brought home a kitten? For me?” 

“For  _ us,”  _ Dean says. “Clearly she likes me.” 

Cas comes over to sit next to Dean, almost hesitant. He reaches out a hand and, after Dean's nod, picks her up. She’s a grey and peach tortoiseshell, eyes green as spring and fur soft as down. 

The kitten is purring-happy in Cas’s hands and can hardly keep her eyes open as Cas looks her over. He smiles and pulls her close to his chest. “She’s beautiful, Dean.” He says it so earnestly, and something about it makes Dean feel like crying. “Does she have a name?” 

“We found her at the shop. She’s so tiny, I don’t even know how she got far enough away from her mom to get lost. I had to give her a bath.” Dean smiles at Cas, even though Cas is craning his chin down to look at the ball of fluff in his hands. “So — no. You have the honor of naming her.” 

“You… gave a bath… to a cat? You?” 

“Well.” Dean flushes, looks away without knowing why. “I didn’t want her to be all dirty like that. And I thought — you know, that it would make you happy, to have a cat.” 

“You make me very happy,” Cas says, his smile big and bright. “And so do kittens. We should brainstorm names.”

Dean leans over to give him a  _ welcome home  _ kiss. Stays close when it’s over and says, “How are you?” 

“I’m holding a kitten, therefore it’s a great day.” Cas sighs and sinks into the couch. “Before that — I can’t do this, Dean.” 

“I know that you  _ can, _ but it’s ok if you don’t want to.” 

Cas sighs again, dramatic enough to almost be a groan. “I don’t have anything to say that matters! They’re going to ask questions.”

“They ask questions, then you answer them. Easy peasy.” 

Cas gives Dean an unimpressed look. “I’m going to name the kitten Bieber just to irritate you.” 

“Uh, no, but if you do the interview, I’ll give you a blowjob afterwards as a reward.” 

“Yay,” Cas says, deadpan. “It’s not a reward if I can have it whenever I want.” 

Dean reflexively glances at Cas’s crotch. He hadn’t been thinking about sex at all, but his imagination is a little too quick on the scene and suddenly he  _ is  _ thinking about Cas’s cock. “I’m making a rule,” Dean says, “that the cat is not allowed in the room while we’re fucking. I don’t want to look up and see a kitten staring at me.” 

“I have a feeling it’s going to happen anyway, but I’ll try to keep her out. Or blindfold you.” 

“Let’s put her in the bathroom now,” Dean says, smile turning coy. “I bought her a bed so she’ll be comfortable.” 

Cas holds the kitten against his chest to carry her upstairs, and helps Dean set up the bed, water, and litter box in the bathroom. As Dean tucks her in with a small blanket, Cas says, “I’m slightly concerned that my husband has been replaced by a clone. A clone that likes cats.” 

Dean blushes. “Hey, she’s pretty cute.” 

Once the door is shut — Dean stops himself from assuring the kitten that they’ll be back soon — Cas grabs Dean’s arm and jerks him closer for a kiss. Using his  _ I’m going to hurt you  _ voice Cas says, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Dean nods, perhaps overly eager, and Cas’s smile turns from predatory to fond in a blink. “I’m going to grab something first,” Cas says. “Take off your clothes.” 

Dean does as he’s told, and then climbs into bed. It only takes a minute for Cas to come back out, nipple clamps in hand. He tosses them at Dean and says, “Do it.” 

Dean takes a deep breath. The new pair of clamps pinches hardes and tightens when pulled, so he has to prepare himself before putting them on. And it  _ hurts,  _ which goes straight to his cock, this intense feedback loop between pain and pleasure leaving him reeling, and Cas hasn’t even touched him yet. 

Dean looks up to watch Cas slip out of his clothes. He looks fucking beautiful and Dean wants to worship him over and over and over. “Seriously,” Cas says. “I can’t believe you brought home a  _ cat.”  _

“I like making you happy,” Dean says. “And —” 

Cas climbs into bed and Dean’s words turn into a hiss as Cas tugs on the chain between the clamps. “Do you find it interesting,” Cas says, pulling on the clamps, tighter and tighter, Dean’s cock throbbing hard against his stomach, “that I asked you to fuck me and you’re just laying there?” 

Dean laughs breathlessly. “Yup, real interesting.” 

Cas gives a quick jerk and Dean cries out, but manages to get himself up on an elbow so he can pull Cas down into the bed. Cas settles on his back and lets Dean kiss him, slow and deep. Cas starts to stroke Dean’s cock, but he’s also pulling down on the clamps until Dean can’t even manage to kiss him properly. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean says, tilting his head so Cas can kiss down his neck, shuddering as the pressure on the chain lets up. 

“I think you meant ‘Christ,’” Cas says with a grin, pulling Dean’s hair to guide him down his body. 

Dean lets himself be pulled, but not far. “Let me,” Dean says against Cas’s collarbone. “I’ll do what you want, but just — let me take care of you, ok?” 

Cas’s hand gentles so he’s just petting Dean’s hair. “Ok. I want you to suck my cock and then fuck me. The rest is up to you.” 

Dean’s smile is hidden against Cas’s skin. Dean’s breath is shaky as he kisses down Cas’s body, everywhere, even as the clamps ache and pinch. 

When Dean starts to sink his mouth down over Cas’s cock, Cas’s hand tightens momentarily in his hair, then gentles again. “I love you,” Cas murmurs. Goosebumps scatter over Dean’s shoulders like a blush. 

Dean loses himself in the familiar — and still delectable, even after a million times — movements of sucking Cas’s cock, not even parsing out the specific words of Cas’s murmured encouragements and praise. 

And then,  _ “Mew?”  _

“Oh my god,” Cas says, and then bursts into laughter, a hand over his face to try to contain it. 

Dean sits back on his heels and scowls in the direction of the bathroom door. He doesn’t know how a cat can sound forlorn, but the  _ mew?  _ questions — repeating now — makes something soft and protective grow inside him. 

“First night, and already a cockblock,” Dean says, wincing as he takes off the nipple clamps and tosses them vaguely in the direction of the closet.

“Dean, are we ever going to have sex again?” 

“Dude,” Dean says, flicking Cas in the ear on his way out of bed. “Jo found her under one of the junkers. We can’t abandon her in the damn bathroom on the first night.” 

“She’s a cat,” Cas says. “She’ll be fine.” 

“Too late,” Dean tosses over his shoulder as he opens the bathroom door. The tiny kitten does a clumsy walk towards his bare feet, and he leans down to scoop her up. “There you go, sweet baby,” Dean whispers as he cuddles her to his chest on the way back to the bed. 

“I still don’t think you’re my husband,” Cas says, sitting up against the headboard. “You’re just as gorgeous, but my Dean would never bring a cat into our bed.” 

“I’ll take my kitten and sleep in the guest bedroom if you’d prefer,” Dean says, even as he’s climbing into bed and pulling the blankets over him and Cas’s laps so he can gently set the kitten on his thigh. She looks around curiously at the brand new landscape, gives another soft  _ mew,  _ then promptly curls up and falls asleep. 

For a moment, Dean and Cas both stare at the rise and fall of her tiny belly as she breathes. “What are you naming her?” Dean says. 

After a moment, Cas says, “Gytha.” 

“You can’t name our kitten that. Nanny’s a whore and a drunk.” 

“So are you,” Cas says, raising an eyebrow. 

“You can’t name the kitten after me, either.” 

“Dean-the-cat and Dean-the-person would be very difficult to keep straight,” Cas says, laughing, and then he leans over and gives Dean a gentle, lingering kiss. “She’s tough, though. And so is Nanny.” 

When Dean wakes up in the morning, roguecjmilton has tweeted a picture of Dean sleeping, with Gytha curled up at the curve of his neck and shoulder. The caption says,  _ “You haven’t got the morals of a cat, Gytha Ogg.” _


	6. SHINY THINGS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s become difficult to make generalizations about CJ Milton’s work. Starting with something akin to horror in _Black Dog,_ Milton has progressed through themes of terror, isolation, and longing, to stories about the healing through found family in _Familiar._ Despite Milton’s presence on social media, he’s elusive at best when it comes to direct conversation. I’ve waited almost a decade for the chance to interview him, and I’m only slightly embarrassed to admit I had a panic attack the morning of our meeting. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oriana has been my brilliant cheerleader today. thank you!

_ It’s become difficult to make generalizations about CJ Milton’s work. Starting with something akin to horror in _ Black Dog, _ Milton has progressed through themes of terror, isolation, and longing, to stories about the healing through found family in _ Familiar. _ Despite Milton’s presence on social media, he’s elusive at best when it comes to direct conversation. I’ve waited almost a decade for the chance to interview him, and I’m only slightly embarrassed to admit I had a panic attack the morning of our meeting. _

**Writers Monthly: **It’s great to chat with you today, CJ. 

**CJ Milton: **Castiel is fine. “CJ” isn’t exactly a pseudonym, but it’s not what people call me in real life. 

**WM: **Speaking of, did you ever consider writing under a pseudonym? 

**CJM:** Have I ever considered pulling a Richard Bachman, you mean? How would you know if I had? 

**WM:** That’s an excellent point. 

**CJM:** I haven’t, but I’ve considered it. I’ve written stories that may not be appropriate under my current “brand.” It’s not what CJ Milton readers would expect. 

**WM:** I’m sure we would all be delighted to see another side of your writing. Do you generally try to write what you think readers want? 

**CJM: **[laughing] That would be impossible. Writers are fickle, but readers moreso. I never know which books will land well, but to be frank, I don’t care. The worst thing an artist can do is create to impress other people. 

**WM: **I was going to ask your advice for young writers, but I think you just answered that. Is there any advice you would give to yourself when you were a young writer? 

**CJM: **In general, I would tell my younger self to do less drugs and get a shrink.

**WM: **That sounds like solid advice for all of us. Do you think your earlier books would be different if you took that advice? 

**CJM: **Yes. 

_ (Milton was clearly uninterested in elaborating.) _

**WM: **A softball: how many hours a day do you write? Does writing energize or tire you? 

**CJM: **I’ll write until the words leave — or my husband starts threatening to. Sometimes I’m up all night with a story and sometimes every word is exhausting. 

**WM: **Have you ever wanted to quit and do something else? Does your husband wish you would?

**CJM: ** After I finish each book, I consider applying at McDonald’s. But really, I pay my bills doing something I love that I couldn’t _ stop _doing if I tried, and Dean wants me to be happy, so it’s a win for both of us. 

**WM: **You use Twitter regularly, and social media can be pretty brutal. Do you search yourself to see what people are saying? Do you read all of the reviews of your books? 

**CJM: **[laughing] Hell no — I know better than that. I try to stay out of the drama the best I can; that’s the job of whatever marketing lackey that runs my official social media accounts. Apologies to whoever I just referred to as a lackey. 

**WM: **I’ve noticed a very clear difference between the majority of your social media accounts and the ‘roguecjmilton’ Twitter. Namely, there’s significantly less of your husband and kitten on the others. 

**CJM: **They’re much more interesting — and cuter — than I am. 

**WM: ** No comment. _ Familiar _was a largely female cast. What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters of the opposite sex? 

**CJM: **I’m under the impression there’s no particular difference between men and women, though I’m sure I underestimate the effects of misogyny. My editor and agent are both women, as are many of my closest friends, but I’m not sure that can ever be fully grokked by an outsider, much the same as I’m not sure straight people could ever fully understand the effect queerphobia has on people like me. 

**WM: **You’ve been criticized for the amount of queer characters in your books. Why is that so important to you? 

**CJM: **I’m sorry to break this to the critics, but queer people exist, and we deserve to exist in stories, too. We deserve to be visible. 

**WM: **Is there anything you hope to teach people with your writing? Whether about queer people or in general? 

**CJM: **I didn’t sign up as a writer to teach people anything. I like to tell stories. What people get out of it is up to them. 

**WM: **I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me. As a final question: as a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

**CJM: **I have to be honest — this is the most ridiculous question I’ve ever been asked in an interview. Perhaps a crow, because I’m always looking for shiny things to collect for stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sharkfish on tumblr](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so terrible at answering comments, but please know that every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days. <3 thank you for being here!!


	7. HAPPY LATELY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You were amazing,” Dean says, quietly. “If I wasn’t already in love with you, I would be now.” 
> 
> Cas wants to tell Dean to fuck off. Wants to wallow in drugs and anxiety instead of love, because it’s easier to be sad than to belong. He takes a deep breath and makes himself say, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com) and all my cheerleaders. <3

“See? I told you you’d be awesome. You were awesome, baby.” 

Cas goes up the stairs to the bedroom without responding. Gytha is on the bed so he’s careful to collapse face-first on the other side. She gives a small  _ mrep  _ and scampers over to clamber onto his shoulder, her claws just a tiny pinch. 

Dean clambers mostly on top of Cas, too, and Cas elbows backwards at him. “Jesus, Dean!” 

“I know, I’m a fatty.” Dean kisses the back of Cas’s neck and then the side of his face. “Come shower with me.” 

“No.” 

“Hm. Well, I’m not getting up for anything else, so I guess we’ll both waste away here.” 

“Shut up.” 

Dean huffs a laugh and then rolls off next to Cas, squeezing him around the middle. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Cas cracks open an eye to see if he’s still awake. Dean’s just looking at him, the hint of a smile on his face, and it grows a little under Cas’s scowl. 

“You were amazing,” Dean says, quietly. “If I wasn’t already in love with you, I would be now.” 

Cas wants to tell Dean to fuck off. Wants to wallow in drugs and anxiety instead of love, because it’s easier to be sad than to belong. He takes a deep breath and makes himself say, “Thank you.” 

Dean allows silence for a couple minutes, nothing but Gytha’s purrs as she kneads in Cas’s shirt. Finally, Cas takes a deep breath and says, “All right. Shower.” 

“Good boy,” Dean says, then rolls off the bed in a fit of laughter before Cas can retaliate. 

Cas moves slowly until Gytha has a chance to dislodge herself, and then he chases after Dean to the bathroom where the shower is already on. 

“You’re in trouble,” Cas says.

Dean turns to loop an arm around Cas’s neck, smiling. “I’m good with that if you are.” 

Sometimes Cas wishes Dean wasn’t so good about lifting the heavy-dark off his shoulders. Sometimes it feels like it would be easier to just hide underneath the weight, but here Dean is, beautiful and bright and offering himself up to be Cas’s most perfect possession. 

“I love you,” Cas says. 

“Yeah, you too. Now take off your clothes.” 

“You first,” Cas says, backing away from Dean to lean against the counter, arms crossed. “Show me which ones you chose for me.” 

Dean blushes, which means Cas is going to be very happy. And he is, because underneath his jeans, Dean is in pink striped panties that would be more  _ cute  _ than  _ sexy  _ if they weren’t quite so skimpy. Cas’s mouth goes dry. 

“Those are new,” he says. “Turn around, please.” 

When Dean turns, his blush spreads all the way down to his shoulders. “I didn’t know if you’d like them.” 

“Of course I like them.” Cas steps forward again to kiss the scar across Dean’s shoulder blade. “I regret that they’re coming off, but perhaps you can show me again later.” 

“Sure,” Dean says, tilting his head to the side so Cas can press kisses up his neck, fingers sliding under the elastic of the panties. 

It’s easy to forget everything else when Dean is shivering under Cas’s touch. Easy to forget about answering questions wrong, how hard it can be to force a smile, how awkward praise feels. It’s just Dean, sweet and soft in his arms. 

Slowly, Cas slides the panties over Dean’s hips and down his thighs, kneeling to follow them all the way to the floor, where Dean moves only to step out of them. Cas folds them and sets them carefully on the counter, then wraps his hands around Dean’s waist and kisses the base of his spine. Dean cants his ass out just the slightest bit, not even enough to be on purpose, and Cas gives him a quick spank, just hard enough to pinken the skin. 

Dean squeaks and Cas laughs as he stands, ignoring the indignant look Dean gives him. Dean steps into the shower while Cas is still stripping, and Cas gets lost with his zipper halfway down, staring as the water starts to drip down the planes of Dean’s shoulders, chest, stomach. 

“You gonna keep staring or get in here?” Dean says, tone flippant but cheeks pink. 

“My husband is the most impatient man alive,” Cas says, mostly because he loves the grin Dean tries to hide every time he says  _ husband.  _

“Your husband really wants to make out with you in the shower,” Dean says, and he grabs Cas as soon as he steps into the shower, pulling him close and giving him a full, warm kiss. 

Cas kisses back, teases his tongue against Dean’s bottom lip until he opens, sliding a hand down his back to his ass, squeezing to pull them flush together. They kiss for a long time, touching aimlessly, and then Dean murmurs against Cas’s mouth, “Can I wear my collar tonight?” 

“Of course.” 

“Can I eat you out?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” 

“Wanna wash my hair?” 

Cas laughs and reaches for the shampoo. 

Cas clenches his jaw to hide a stupidly sappy smile as he watches Dean carefully relocate Gytha outside the bedroom door, apologizing for the inconvenience. 

“You just apologized to a cat,” Cas says when Dean turns back to him. 

“Whatever,” Dean says, flushing. “You saw her face.” 

“She makes that face at you so you’ll do whatever she wants.” 

“I still kicked her out, didn’t I?” 

As if on command, from the other side of the door:  _ Mew?  _

Before Dean can change his mind, Cas grabs his phone and starts the Winchester Special playlist to drown her out. Dean hums along —  _ Now I’ve been happy lately/thinking about the things to come/and I believe it could be/something good has begun —  _ and keeps humming even as Cas reels him in for a kiss. 

“All right, stud, lemme do dirty things to you,” Dean says, eyebrows waggling. 

“Collar first.” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean says with a grin. 

Cas waits until the collar is buckled around Dean’s neck, then slaps him across the face. He loves the way Dean goes instantly from cheeky grins to shaky breaths, eyelashes fluttering as he gives himself over. 

Cas hooks his finger in the ring at the front of the collar and tugs as he backs up towards the bed, pulling Dean after him. Dean fumbles his way between Cas’s legs, rolling his eyes when Cas laughs, and then he steals a kiss that leaves Cas melted against the pillows. 

“By the way,” Dean says, nodding towards Cas’s bedside table. “You seem to have missed that I’m the best husband ever for pre-rolling not one but  _ three  _ joints for you earlier.” 

Cas’s mouth stretches into a smile and he reaches over for one of the joints and a lighter. “You are indeed the best husband I’ve ever had.” 

Cas lights up, takes a long hit, and kisses the smoke into Dean’s mouth. Dean exhales, steals the joint, and shares another hit the same way. Eyes already a little heavy, Dean says, “Mm, that’s good shit.” 

“Indeed,” Cas says, taking the joint back while Dean kisses down his neck, slow as the high settles in. 

Cas gasps as Dean tugs at one of his nipples, and then the other, with his teeth. “Dean,” Cas breathes, and Dean looks up to flash him a smile, even as he’s still nuzzling down Cas’s chest. 

Cas keeps smoking while he watches Dean move down his body, his mouth wet and languid, thinking about the first time Dean sucked his cock. How Dean couldn’t hide his shame or his thrill, his eagerness to please Cas, even back then. Cas was already a little in love with him. 

Now Dean’s mouth sinking over Cas’s cock is easy and familiar, delicious and hot. “There you go,” Cas murmurs as Dean takes more of him, and Dean whimpers. 

Cas reaches to snub out the joint in the ashtray, just so he can cradle Dean’s head in both hands, pressing him down, pushing himself deeper, deeper, until Dean’s gagging but still not fighting it. Cas’s knees tighten around Dean’s ribs as he groans. 

“Look at me.” Dean’s eyes raise, and Cas hums his approval, waiting until the first tear spills over before he lets Dean up. Dean comes all the way off Cas’s cock, coughing and apologizing, but Cas just smiles and says, “Good boy. Continue.” 

Dean laughs, a little hoarse, and bends back down to lick and then suck at each of Cas’s balls before pulling both of Cas’s legs over his shoulders. Cas puts his hands under his knees to open himself for Dean’s mouth. 

Dean’s a tease and the first few licks are so light it’s almost a tickle, but he knows better than to tease for too long. The first full lick makes Cas shudder, and then again as Dean starts to slick him up with his tongue. 

Dean uses his thumbs to ease Cas’s hole open more, licks around and  _ in  _ until Cas raises his hips to ride against Dean’s face. “Do that again,” Cas says, and Dean repeats the slow curl of his tongue. “God, that’s good.” 

Dean groans and Cas lets go of one leg to stroke his cock, wet with precome and Dean’s spit. As Dean works a finger in alongside his tongue, Cas jerks on his hair and says, “I want to come in your mouth.” 

Dean gives Cas’s hole another long lick and then swallows his cock again, all the way to the root, and stays still while Cas thrusts up into his mouth — one, two, three, four, and then Cas spills, watching a dribble of come leak out of Dean’s lips. 

Dean wipes his mouth and gives Cas a big smile. “Good?” 

“Amazing,” Cas says, smiling back. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You know I do.” 

“Brat,” Cas says, affectionate.

“You like it,” Dean says back, smirking. 

In the break between  _ No Sugar Tonight  _ and the next song, Cas hears,  _ Mew?  _


	8. CAS SAYS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Today we’re going to play Simon Says.” Cas tilts his head to the side and corrects, _“Cas_ Says. Everything you do, you must ask permission first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com)

Sitting on the counter while Dean fits the plunger into the French press, Cas says, “Today we’re going to play Simon Says.” He tilts his head to the side and corrects,  _ “Cas  _ Says. Everything you do, you must ask permission first.” 

Dean is suddenly breathtakingly aware of the collar around his throat. “Everything?” 

“Everything.” 

“Can I, um. Finish the coffee?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Dean glances at Cas as he finishes with the press, but Cas is just scrolling on his phone. Dean reaches for the cabinet with their mugs, but before he can pull open the door, Cas grabs his wrist, jerks him closer, and slaps him across the face. 

Dean gasps and says, “Shit, sorry — sorry — um, can I get you a cup?”

“Yes.” 

“And, um. Me too? So I don’t die of caffeine withdrawal.” 

“You wouldn’t be very useful to me if you died,” Cas says, laughing, “so yes.” 

Cautiously, Dean pours them each a mug of coffee and passes Cas’s over to him. Cas takes a sip and then says, “Come here.” He parts his knees for Dean to fit between them, tilts Dean’s chin up with a gentle hand to kiss him. A bright and sweet  _ good morning  _ kiss that leaves Dean reeling and smiling. 

There are still moments he can’t believe Cas is his. 

With only a moment’s hesitation, Dean steals another kiss. Cas kisses him back for a long, lovely moment, before pulling Dean away by the hair and smacks him. “You didn’t ask permission.” 

“Sorry,” Dean says, knowing his smile shows he’s not sorry at all. 

“Are you courting trouble?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Hm,” Cas says, grabbing his mug and taking another sip. “If you insist on impertinence, I suppose I could just lock myself in my office and write all day.” 

“It turns me on when you use big words,” Dean says, still grinning. 

“I know.” Cas leaves a noisy kiss on Dean’s flaming cheek and says, “Go to the couch with your coffee.” 

_ Yes, sir,  _ almost slips out of Dean’s mouth, not even sarcastic, and then there’s a flash of the other  _ sir  _ — never  _ dad  _ — he’s had in his life and he holds down a grimace. “Roger that.” 

Once they’re settled on the couch, Cas flips on Community and opens up his computer. Tap tap tap, biting his lip the way he does when he’s not sure which word comes next. Dean tries to watch the tv but keeps sneaking glances over at Cas. 

Dean’s phone dings from the bedroom. “Can I get that?” 

“Yes. I think my bong’s up there too — bring it down, please.” 

Dean finds Gytha curled up on Cas’s pillow. She yawns and stretches when Dean scritches her head, then scampers down the stairs after him once he’s collected his phone and the Hello Kitty bong Charlie bought Cas for his birthday. 

“Can I sit?” Dean says. “I’ll pack this for you too.” 

Cas nods and Dean gets to work, enjoying the ritual of cleaning out and repacking the bowl. 

“Oh, Gytha,” Cas says with great disappointment, and Dean glances over to see Gytha standing on his keyboard, tail a tall question mark. “Cats can’t write books, darling.” 

Gytha says,  _ Mrow?  _

“Both of you are fucking brats,” Cas says, a goofy smile on his face. 

“I love you,” Dean says, the words tumbling out of his mouth without planning it. 

“Te amo más,” Cas says back, depositing Gytha next to him so he can reach for his bong. Dean rolls his eyes and Cas says, “If my hands weren’t full, I would slap you.” 

“I would probably like it,” Dean says, bumping his shoulder against Cas’s. 

Cas hits the bong, then leans over to share with Dean in a barely-kiss. “Who’s texting you?”

“Oh, totally forgot.” Dean thumbs open his phone to a text from Sam. 

**Sam: ** How’s married life treating you lately? 

**Dean: ** Living the dream. Being ignored while he writes as usual. 

Dean’s phone  _ bloops  _ as the text sends, and Cas looks over. “Excuse me?” 

“Well, it’s tr— shit.” Dean turns towards Cas more fully, offering himself. Cas just looks at him for a long moment, and then he hits Dean, the clap loud enough to startle Gytha from her place on the back of the couch. 

Dean whimpers low in his throat and whispers, “Please?” 

“Please what?” 

Dean licks his lips. “Hit me again?” 

Cas slaps him again and Dean keeps his eyes closed, breathing unsteady. “Good boy,” Cas says, then sets his computer aside and points to the floor. “Down.” 

Dean goes down with a rushing thump that reverberates up his thighs, fitting himself between Cas’s knees. Once he’s settled, Cas hits him three times in a row, then two more times after Dean shudders. Distantly, Dean realizes he’s hard, just from the burn of his cheeks and the way Cas is looking at him. 

Slowly, Cas pulls his pants down just enough to pull out his half-hard cock. “Put your hands behind your back and suck my cock.” 

Dean swallows hard as he wraps one hand around his other wrist at the small of his back, then leans forward to mouth at the head of Cas’s cock before taking it into his mouth. Cas strokes his fingers through Dean’s hair but doesn’t pull, just lets Dean suck him down, then slide back up, until he’s hot-hard in Dean’s mouth. 

Then, without warning, he shoves Dean down, all the way until he gags and chokes and has to clench his fingers around his wrist to keep from fighting it. “Mmm,” Cas murmurs. “What a good little whore.” 

Dean moans around him, leans heavy into it until he’s taken Cas all the way down, huge in his throat. Cas gasps, shifts his hips like he thinks he can get any deeper. Dean can feel spit gathering at the corners of his lips and tears in the corners of his eyes. 

“Cry for me,” Cas says, then pulls Dean up by the hair just enough that he can fuck up into his mouth, choking Dean over and over. Dean can feel the heat of his gaze and then the wet of tears spilling down his cheeks. 

Dean drifts, snatching breaths when he has the chance, whining when Cas whispers praise, distantly wishing Cas would just use him forever, even though he knows what that hitch in Cas’s breathing means. 

“Right there, sweetheart,” Cas says, and shoves deep as he comes, holding Dean down all the way until he starts to soften.

Cas lets Dean up and wipes his mouth with his shirt. Hoarse, Dean says, “Thank you.” 

“Thank  _ you.  _ Perhaps you deserve a reward. What would you choose?” 

After a moment’s thought, Dean says, “Paddle?” 

“Which one?” Cas asks, tilting his head. 

“Um, the wood one.” 

“Go upstairs.” 

Dean’s legs are a little numb so he stumbles on the way up the stairs, but Cas’s hand is there to steady him, and then Dean throws himself face-first into the bed, still-rumpled blankets around him. 

“I’ve always said you were graceful,” Cas says, laughing.

“Hilarious,” Dean says, scowling with his face half hidden in a pillow. 

“It’s a good thing you asked for the paddle because you  _ didn’t  _ ask permission to get into bed, so this will be a punishment after all.” 

“I hate this game,” Dean says, earning himself a swat on the ass, dulled by the fabric of his boxers. 

“You’ll be pretty good at it by the end of the day, I suspect,” Cas says over his shoulder as he heads into the closet. 

“Can I take my boxers off?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, already rejoining Dean with the wooden paddle in his hand. There are holes drilled in it, and sometimes it almost whistles in the air when Cas hits Dean with it. 

Dean fumbles out of his boxers, then Cas guides him to lay back on his stomach with a gentle hand on the small of his back. Dean lets out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax even though he’s buzzing with anticipation. 

He still yelps the first time Cas hits him. It’s not even hard, just a warm-up across his ass, but the first ones always hurt the worst. Cas doesn’t give him long to get used to the heft of it before he’s hitting Dean over and over in what feels like a random pattern of intervals and placement. 

Dean was already floating, and now it’s nothing but the thud of the paddle, the deep pain of it, Cas whispering  _ good boy  _ in between every handful of hits. He gasps with each impact and clenches his hands in the sheets and forgets everything. 

Even when it stops, he can still feel the echoing throb over his entire ass. He’ll be bruised and hurting for the next week. 

“Dean?” Cas says softly, running a hand through his hair. “How are you?” 

It takes a few seconds to process the words and then a couple more to reply. “I — I’m good. Really good.” 

Cas leans down and presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m going to get you some water. I’ll be right back.” 

Dean nods sluggishly, still flying high from the pain. Cas is back quickly anyway, helping Dean to sit enough to drink some water. Dean hadn’t even noticed how dry his mouth was. 

Cas gives him a sweet kiss. “You’re exquisite.” 

Dean blushes and says, “Can we lay down for a minute?” 

“Of course.” 

They both lay down and Cas pulls the blanket over them, the sheet blessedly cool against Dean’s throbbing skin. “I have a poem for you,” Cas says, so quiet, close enough to almost be a kiss.  _ “When I am with you, we stay up all night. When you’re not here, I can’t go to sleep…”  _

A long time later, when he can breathe again without Cas to guide him, Dean says, “Do you ever think —  _ _ we’re going to be together forever. We have rings and everything.” 

“Are you —” Cas swallows. “You’re regretting it?” 

“Are you serious? Of course not. I just keep thinking — I dunno, that eventually  _ you’re _ going to regret it. Bothering with me at all. I was so shitty to you.” 

Quietly, Cas says, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Marrying you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “me too. And sometimes I just can’t believe it, how good it is to just — I dunno. Be with you.” 

“You’re particularly eloquent today,” Cas says. 

“You’re particularly deflecting this moment with being an asshole.” 

“I learned that from you.” 

They smile at each other, soft and a little goofy in love, and Dean thinks he must be the luckiest man alive to belong to Cas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I am with you, we stay up all night.  
When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.
> 
> Praise god for these two insomnias!  
And the difference between them.   
_[music master by rumi](https://mysticpoetssociety.wordpress.com/2015/02/12/music-master-by-rumi/)_


	9. INTERLUDE #1

Cas knows he couldn’t be more spoiled. He knows part of how Dean shows love is food, and he’s all too aware that Dean started cooking for him only a handful of months after they met. He knows Dean learned —  _ learns  _ — recipes he never would have on his own. He knows Dean would pick a burger or steak over eggplant or tofu if Cas wasn’t around, but most weeks they don’t even buy much meat during joint grocery trips. 

Every night, even if it’s something he’s made a thousand times, there’s this look on Dean’s face as Cas takes the first bite, like he can’t wait to find out if Cas likes it. Cas always does. 

Cas can barely remember the days where breakfast was just coffee, black, because Dean forces eggs and toast at him most weekdays. Saturday is pancakes. Sunday is biscuits and gravy. Dean won’t let Cas help, so he just sits on the counter and sings along to Dean’s playlist and steals kisses whenever Dean allows. 

Cas is spoiled to death, has never done anything in his life good enough to deserve Dean, and after years, still hasn’t figured out how to entirely show it. He touches Dean as reverently as he knows how. Holds him close. Writes him stories. And, because it’s the least he can do, sends to his editor: 

_ To Dean. I’d rather have you.  _


	10. DAMN GAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I forgot about homophobia.” 
> 
> Cas tenses next to him. “What?” 
> 
> “I forgot that some people hate — you know. People like us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oriana has been a great cheerleader lately so thank you!! <3 
> 
> content note: as you may have guessed from the summary - non-explicit references to off-screen homophobia

It’s been a long day on top of a long week, and Cas gives Dean the  _ just a minute  _ gesture from his desk when Dean comes home from work, which sometimes means “a minute” and sometimes means “three hours,” so Dean takes a whiskey to the couch to stare blankly at the tv. Gytha doesn’t even bother to join him. 

_ Just a minute  _ ends up only being about twenty. Cas looks at Dean’s face, then the tv with an episode of MasterChef they’ve both seen before, then the drink in Dean’s hand, and says, “Are you all right?” 

“Hello to you, too,” Dean says, going for snappy but coming out tired. 

“Hello,” Cas says, sitting next to him and squeezing his knee. 

After a minute, Dean says, “I forgot about homophobia.” 

Cas tenses next to him. “What?” 

“I forgot that some people hate — you know. People like us.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Dean says. After a pause, he continues, “You know that new guy at work?” 

“Yes, you said he seemed like a douchebag.” 

“Yeah, well. Benny mentioned you, and this asshole asks if my wife is hot, which is fuckin’ gross by itself, and Jo was around so of course she goes ‘Dean’s husband  _ is  _ hot’” — Dean rolls his eyes — “and this guy says — shit. It doesn’t matter what he said. It was fucking stupid, you know? And it’s so stupid that I…” Dean rubs furiously at his eyes, then takes a gulp of his drink. “It’s just all so fucking stupid.” 

Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget, too,” he says, and then, “Until I look at my Twitter.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Yeah. Did you talk to Rufus?” 

“Didn’t need to. I had to stop Jo from punching this guy. Hell hath no fury like that girl, but Benny wasn’t having it either. Asshole managed one smart decision today and saw himself out.” 

“You should’ve let her hit him,” Cas says, and even nestled underneath his chin, Dean can tell he’s smiling. 

“I was just so surprised, you know? Or I might have punched him myself.” 

Cas huffs a laugh. “Lucky for him.” Rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s back, he says, “I have an idea.” 

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m really not in the mood for —” 

“Not that,” Cas says. “Or perhaps — well. What do you want for dinner? Do you want to go out?” 

“Cas, I really don’t care,” Dean says, sitting up to grab his glass and toss the last of the whiskey down his throat. It’s good, smooth and smoky, the taste thick on his tongue. 

Cas puts on his squint. “Order in or go out?” 

“In.” 

“Steak or burgers?” 

Dean squints back at him. “Did you just ask if I want  _ steak?”  _

“Do you?” 

“Yup.” 

Cas grabs Dean’s phone. Dean sees him open the Grubhub app but then Cas angles away from him while he orders. “Ugh,” Dean says, “you’re so annoying.” 

Cas grins at him and sets the phone to the side, out of Dean’s reach. “Would you like a beer?” 

“Would prefer another drink,” Dean says, wiggling the empty tumbler. “You want something?” 

“I’ve got it.” Cas stands and grabs the glass. 

There’s drama on the tv — a team challenge — but Dean stares after Cas instead, thinking vaguely that once upon a time, today would be his worst nightmare. Good ol’ dad would sneer the same way Christian did, like nothing Dean could do would ever make up for the sin of loving Cas, like loving Cas  _ is  _ a sin and not a joy. 

When Cas returns with two glasses, Dean downs half of his in several long drinks, then leans his head back on the couch to stare at the ceiling. Cas sits next to him and squeezes his knee but doesn’t speak. 

“I know I shouldn’t let this shit get to me,” Dean says, keeping his gaze resolutely upwards. Their home is the first place he’s ever lived without popcorn ceilings. “It’s not like I actually give a fuck what that asshole thinks about me.” 

Cas leans his head back to stare up at nothing, too, his shoulder pressed up against Dean’s. “Sometimes I think I should be used to it by now, but — you know what the internet is like.” 

“People are such assholes.” 

“Plenty of them, yes. Not you, however.” 

Dean snorts. “Well, I’m not a homophobic prick at least.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Cas turn towards him and smile. “I never get to be the one asking this. Do you want to talk about it more, or do you want me to distract you?” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Dean says, turning his head, nearly nose to nose. “Distraction for five hundred, Alex.” 

“What is your choice of entertainment tonight? Games? Bad tv?  _ Good  _ tv? I could even leave you alone if you’d prefer.” 

“Alone, right,” Dean says, suddenly defeated in a way he wasn’t before. “Bet you got lots of writing to do.” 

“I’d rather be with you,” Cas says, almost a question. “We could play that new game.” 

“We could.” 

Cas flashes Dean a brilliant smile. “I’ll set it up.” 

Cas wins two out of three. Cleaning up the dinner mess while Dean packs up the game, Cas says, “It’s funny how you’re such a good sport with your friends, but you pout forever if you lose to me.” 

“You are my friend.” 

“Then I guess you’re always a bad sport.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and throws a plastic Bruce Lee at Cas, who somehow manages to catch it before it hits his face, despite all the smoke and drink they’ve had. 

“Can I present an idea for our next activity?” 

“Go for it.” 

“If you’re amenable, I’d like to kick the cat out of our room and suck your cock.” 

Something about the earnestness in Cas’s face makes Dean laugh, and the high makes him laugh more, and Cas is scowling even as he grabs Dean’s hand to pull him up the stairs. 

Gytha gives Dean her best disgruntled look when she’s unceremoniously dumped outside the bedroom, and then Cas is pulling Dean in for a long, sweet kiss. Dean wonders, again, how anyone could think loving Cas isn’t an inevitability and an honor. 

Cas pulls off Dean’s shirt and nuzzles into his neck, leaving hot kisses down the column of his throat. “You,” Cas murmurs, “are so fucking gorgeous.” 

“Shut up,” Dean says, crowding Cas back towards the bed. 

“I will not.” Cas grabs Dean by the hips and spins him, quick enough that Dean stumbles and falls back into the mattress with a bounce. “You are beautiful,” Cas says, leaning down to press kisses along Dean’s jaw, “and smart,” kissing down his neck now, “good sense of humor,” scraping his teeth over one of Dean’s nipples, making him gasp sharply, “great cook,” a harsh bite to the other nipple, “fantastic cocksucker, and,” unzipping Dean’s jeans and jerking them off, “all mine.” 

Dean wants to protest, except he’s really stoned and Cas is hot and wild-eyed over him and all thoughts fly out the window, so all he comes up with is, “All yours. Definitely.” 

Cas laughs and kisses Dean, sweetly again. “In addition, you have a lovely cock that I’m looking forward to having in my mouth.” 

Dean distinctly feels the twitch in his boxers and flushes a deeper pink. “Yeah? Maybe you should hurry up on that one.” 

Cas gives Dean an unimpressed look, the one that usually means Dean is in trouble, and Dean just grins back at him. Instead of hitting him — or any other sort of punishment — Cas just points at the headboard and Dean squirms his way to rest against the pillows.

Cas prowls into the bed after Dean, presses into the V of his legs to run the flat of his tongue over one of Dean’s nipples. “You know, it’s been too long since I did something really mean to you.” 

“What, two days ago?” Dean says, cutting off with a whine as Cas’s teeth scrape. 

“Yes. Too long.” Cas smiles up at Dean before continuing to kiss down his stomach. The prickle of his day’s worth of scruff is delicious, raising the anticipation as Cas nips just below Dean’s belly button. “Does it even hurt anymore?” 

“A — a little —” Dean breaks off into a whine as Cas scrapes his teeth down the underside of his cock through his boxers. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Too much?” Cas asks, soothing with his tongue, wet fabric wrapping around the aching head of Dean’s cock. 

“Nope, definitely — Jesus.” 

Cas grins and slowly peels Dean’s boxers down his thighs. “You’re a broken record tonight.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

Cas shrugs and Dean just stares as he licks away the precome already starting to drip towards his belly. Slowly, so slowly, he starts to take Dean into his mouth, a little deeper with each movement. Dean clenches his hands in the blankets, and then clenches Cas’s fingers when he reaches up. 

Cas pulls off to suck a mark on Dean’s hip, and then another, until Dean murmurs, “Please, baby.” 

This time Cas takes him all the way down, until Dean can feel himself pushing into Cas’s throat, can feel the flutter as Cas swallows. Dean moans and his free hand lands in Cas’s hair, stroking but not pulling. 

Cas takes Dean apart slowly and expertly, knowing just how to use his tongue and teeth and hand to make Dean a moaning mess. 

“Close,” Dean whispers, half afraid Cas will tell him not to come, half hoping for Cas to own him. 

Cas presses his tongue just right, threatens with his teeth, and pinches and twists Dean’s nipple until he arches his back and comes, shuddering, down Cas’s throat. 

Eyes half-lidded, Dean watches Cas sit up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, wearing a smug smile. “Holy fuck,” Dean says, surprised to find himself hoarse. 

“I hope that was satisfactory,” Cas says, tucking Dean back into his boxers before laying next to him. 

“That was awesome,” Dean says, and then kisses Cas, languid and lingering. “What can I do for you?” 

“Relax and let me hold you.” 

Dean snorts but gladly nestles under Cas’s chin, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I’ve officially forgot whatever the hell I was so mad about earlier.” 

Cas laughs and says, “My job is done.” 

“Damn straight.” Pause. “Don’t even say it.” 

“Damn gay.” 


	11. POST-ITS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean manages to wait until they walk into the house before he says, “Are you fucking kidding me, Cas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks & love to oriana

Dean manages to wait until they walk into the house before he says, “Are you fucking kidding me, Cas?” 

Cas is apparently a goddamn moron, because he turns to look at Dean with a confused squint. “What?” 

“Seriously?  _ Seriously?”  _

“You’re going to have to elaborate.” 

“I can  _ elaborate,”  _ Dean says, not bothering to hide the sneer he’d plastered over with a polite smile the second half of the night. “Just like you  _ elaborated  _ with some chick while she practically climbed in your lap. What was her name again?” 

“Charity?” Cas says, finding the gall to sound surprised. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

_ “Charity,”  _ Dean repeats. “I put up with a lot of shit, Cas, but I’m not putting up with  _ Charity.”  _

Cas goes silent in a way that is loud as a shout. Dean throws his keys onto the table in the entryway harder than necessary, then turns to face his asshole of a husband, arms crossed. “You,” Cas says, low and even, “put up with a lot of shit.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not going to let y—” 

“What kind of shit is that exactly?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Cas nods slowly. “I suppose I do.” 

Dean’s the one who started the argument, but Cas is the one who finishes it, drifting away like a ghost and locking himself away in the guest bedroom. 

Dean doesn’t sleep, vacillating between rage every time he remembers the way Cas smiled at the girl at the bar, which he’s pretty sure is the same way Cas smiled at him the night they met, and despair, because he knows what Cas thinks he meant by  _ put up with a lot of shit.  _

Dean is the worst person alive, because it  _ is _ what he meant: all the lonely nights in a too-big bed, lonely mornings clearing coffee mugs off of Cas’s desk, lonely evenings when he thinks he might be losing Cas again. 

_ I didn’t mean it  _ would be a lie and he doesn’t know how to say  _ but you’ll always be worth it.  _

He must sleep at some point because he wakes up to the optimistic chimes of his alarm, which of course he forgot to turn off. Not even Gytha is there for the usual morning ritual of shoving her face into Dean’s until the tickle of her whiskers convinces him to pet her. 

Dean angrily brushes his teeth and angrily showers and angrily pours a cup of coffee and angrily walks down the hallway towards Cas’s office area and angrily stares at Cas standing in front of a wall covered in post-its that weren’t there when Dean went to bed. Cas mutters to himself as he rearranges them. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean says. 

Cas ignores him for a moment and then says, distractedly, “Giving you more shit to put up with.” 

“Cas, come on —” 

“Go away, Dean. I’m busy.” 

Dean angrily goes away and angrily drinks his coffee on the back deck and angrily texts Charlie to see if she wants to hang out and a few hours later he angrily slams out of the house to head to her place. 

“What’s the deal, Handmaiden?” Charlie says after Dean is three beers in. “You’re chugging those things like you’re trying to drown yourself.” 

“I’m fine.” Dean takes another gulp while Charlie glares at him. “Fine, whatever. Had a fight with Cas.” 

“Please tell me it wasn’t about that girl last night.” 

“Oh, so you saw, too?” 

“Dude, you’re a moron. I’m pretty sure she plays for my team.” 

Dean scowls and grumbles, “People can play for multiple teams.” 

“Is Cas ok?” 

“Is  _ Cas  _ ok?” Dean repeats, incredulous. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

“I’m on the side of the guy who was nerding out with a chick who’s not even interested in him while his husband apparently got his panties in a rage twist. And by the way, dumbass? It doesn’t matter what team anyone else might play on, because Cas let you put a ring on it.” 

Dean’s scowl deepens. “Nothin’ stopping him from changing his mind.” 

“Oh my god,” Charlie says, smacking Dean on the back of the head. “I see what’s happening. You’re riding that Dean Winchester Self-Loathing Train.” 

“I’m getting another beer. And,” Dean says, standing, “fuck you.” 

While Dean is digging through Charlie’s fridge, his phone buzzes in his pocket. As soon as he reads the message, his heart starts pounding. 

**Cas: ** Would you prefer I leave before you get home? 

Dean almost says something nasty, tells Cas to go fuck himself, but then —  _ Cas.  _ Even seething from halfway across the bar, Dean couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous Cas looked in a soft denim shirt. How he couldn’t really be mad at the chick hanging all over Cas, considering a chance meeting at a bar led Cas to single-handedly pull Dean from his place Narnia-deep in the closet. And now, all he can think about is how sick he would feel to go home to an empty house. 

Dean leaves the beer behind, gives Charlie a quick hug, and drives too-fast all the way home. 

Cas’s car is in the driveway but the house is silent and dim in the evening light when Dean lets himself in. There are more post-its on the wall of Cas’s office space, and Dean flips the light on to look. He tries to read some, but Cas’s handwriting is a disaster on the best of days, and the things Dean can make out don’t make sense anyway. Something uncomfortable squirms in his belly to see them. 

“Cas?” 

There’s no answer, so Dean takes the stairs with a heavy heart. Their bedroom is dim but he can make out the shape of Cas under the blankets. 

“Cas?” Dean says, quiet. “Can I come in with you?” 

There’s a movement like a shrug and then a grunt of assent. Dean pulls off his boots and leaves his jeans in a puddle on the floor before climbing under the comforter with Cas. In the warm dark, Dean can’t really see him, but he still reaches out. As soon as he’s grabbed Cas’s shoulder, Cas collapses into him, face pressed into Dean’s chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers. Cas is silent, so he continues, “That was really fucking stupid of me.” 

“You’re right,” Cas replies finally, voice hoarse. “I put you through a lot.” 

“I shouldn’t have — accused you. And I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“I understand.” 

Dean’s shirt sticks to his chest from Cas’s tears, and he reflexively wraps his arms around Cas’s shoulders, holding him tight. “I was scared,” he admits into Cas’s hair, glad for the dark because he would never be able to say it in the light. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” 

“I think,” Cas says, shakily, “that you had something to say and needed an excuse.” 

“No! I — put up with — I shouldn’t have said that. You’re the best thing to happen to me, ok? And nothing is going to change that.” Almost begging, Dean repeats, “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry about the post-its.” 

“It’s ok, baby,” Dean says, kissing the top of his head. “Brainstorming for your next book?” 

Cas shrugs. “Just being crazy.” 

Dean squeezes him even closer. “Don’t talk about my husband like that.” 

“I’ll try to do better.” 

“Cas,” Dean breathes out, feeling frayed at the seams. “I love you so fucking much. I don’t care how many post-its you put up.” 

Cas sniffles and they just lay together for a long time, Cas clutching at Dean’s side and Dean running a hand slowly up and down his back. 

“I love you too,” Cas says, once the tears are dried up. “But you should know, Charity is a lesbian, and you're an idiot.” 


	12. ANAHATASANA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, uh…” Dean holds up the lipstick and eyeliner Cas chose for him, giving them a quick questioning shake.
> 
> “You don’t have to, but I thought you would look lovely, and even better once I do some terrible things to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to oriana. <3

Dean is laid out on Cas’s yoga mat on the back porch when Cas comes home. “Hello, beautiful,” Cas says, squinting at him. “What are you doing down there?” 

Dean smiles up at him, easy as the sun. “Meditating, obviously.” 

“Interesting. Are the beer and pot part of that or separate?” 

“Go away, I’m busy.” Dean closes his eyes and hums,  _ Ohmmmmm.  _

“You are ridiculous,” Cas says. sitting to straddle Dean’s thighs and snagging the pipe out of his hand. “This is what you get up to during my Lisa lunches?” 

“Nah. Usually cuddle little Ogg and pine for you.” 

Cas rolls his eyes as the lighter  _ snicks  _ and he inhales. Blowing smoke out, he says, “Ben has decided he wants to be a ‘famous writer.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the distinct lack of glamor in this job.” 

Dean laughs. It’s Cas’s favorite thing. “He written anything yet?” 

“Yes, actually. He sent me something to read. I hope it’s not about vampires.” 

“Didn’t you write about vampires once?” 

Cas levels Dean with an unimpressed stare. “They were ifrits and you know it.” 

Dean’s laugh is more a giggle of delight this time, but Cas still manages to hold his face in a glare. Until Dean sits up on one arm to take a swig of beer, and then Cas has to steal a kiss, sour with beer and sweet with blackberry weed. 

“I had a thought during anahatasana at yoga earlier,” Cas says. 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“You’re rather good at it,” Cas says, tilting his head. “But returning to my thought. I picked up some things for you.” 

“Dirty things?” 

“I’m not telling. I’m going to go take a shower, but feel free to check out your presents on the couch.” 

Dean follows Cas inside, though Cas veers towards the stairs and Dean heads to the living room. Gytha is curled up on Dean’s pillow like usual and Cas pauses to give her a scratch before depositing her in the hallway, and then stipping off his clothes. 

The cold water feels good on aching muscles, and he stands under the stream thinking of nothing and everything, thinking about Ben and how he somehow became a role model, thinking about Dean and how he somehow fell in love, thinking about madness and how he manages to mostly only skirt the edges of it now.  _ Mostly-sane  _ and  _ happy  _ almost feel too big to fit in his mouth, almost taste too sweet. 

He’s still standing there when Dean walks into the bathroom, gifts in hand. Cas can feel the weight of his eyes without looking over and he preens a little to know Dean is watching. 

“Can I help you?” Cas says, voice echoing, and Dean’s eyes jerk from where they were drifting downwards back to his smiling face. 

“Fuck you,” Dean says, blushing. “So, uh…” He holds up the lipstick and eyeliner Cas chose for him, giving them a quick questioning shake. 

“You don’t have to, but I thought you would look lovely, and even better once I do some terrible things to you.” 

Dean’s flush deepens. “I’ll think about it,” Dean says over his shoulder as he leaves the bathroom, which is a lie and they both know it. 

Cas takes his time in the shower, now thinking about nothing except how  _ pretty  _ Dean is, his eyes verdant and bright, his mouth pink and delectable, and what he’ll look like with those features exaggerated. The way the lipstick will smear as Cas fucks his face. The way his tear tracks will show stark against his freckles. 

By the time Cas is out of the shower, Dean has had plenty of time to  _ think about it,  _ and Cas calls out, “Dean?” 

“Just a second!” Dean yells back, clearly from the guest bathroom. 

Dean’s bare feet are quiet on the hardwood but Cas turns to him right away, still rubbing a towel through his hair. “There you are,” Cas says with a smile, and after a beat, he doesn’t even notice the towel dropping from his hand. “Oh,” he breathes. 

Before Dean can start to think he’s anything but perfect, Cas is right in front of him, cupping his jaw to look him over. “You’re so gorgeous.” 

“Sure,” Dean says out of lips so dark pink as to almost be red. 

“I didn’t think I would ever have a lipstick kiss again,” Cas says, smiling, and then kisses Dean, zero to sixty because he aches for Dean, and he aches to make Dean unsteady and blushing. 

“Mm, yes,” Cas says, his hand leaving Dean’s face to stroke his own cock. “I’m going to have fun with this.” 

“Am I going to have fun too, or is this a torture-Dean night?” 

“Depends on how good you are,” Cas says with something that feels like a smirk. “On your knees. Next to the bed, but face me.” 

Dean bends and goes to his knees, looking up at Cas, sweet and waiting, cheeks angel-kissed and flushed. “Open,” Cas says, and Dean does, stretching his jaw so his mouth is the perfect size for Cas’s cock. “Good boy,” Cas says and then, sliding the head of his cock between Dean’s dark lips, “Suck.” 

Cas watches, breathless, as Dean starts to slowly suck him down. It feels worshipful, languid and hot, and Cas hums happily as his cock pushes into Dean’s throat. Dean glances up — so  _ lovely  _ with his eyes rimmed in kohl — and then refocuses on his task. He’s so good that he doesn’t reach up to steady himself, just leaves his hands resting on his thighs. 

Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and Dean goes slack. “Oh, really?” Cas says. “Do you want something?” 

Dean’s  _ mmhmm  _ is muffled, and the vibration sings across Cas’s skin. “I’m feeling benevolent,” Cas says, grabbing Dean by the hair to hold him still and fucking forward into his mouth. 

Dean gags and jerks back, but Cas just follows, though he does give Dean a moment to relax again before pushing deeper. Cas keeps moving forward, crowding Dean until he bends backwards, head falling to rest against the edge of the bed. Cas lets go of his hair to balance on the mattress, fucking down into Dean’s mouth until he can’t feel anything but Dean’s throat fluttering around the head of his cock. 

Cas fucks deeper until Dean is choking, spurred on by the filthy wet noises of it. Dean’s eyes are starting to water but no tears have fallen, so Cas pinches his nose closed, keeping his thrusts deep so Dean can’t breathe at all. 

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas says, watching a black tear streak down his cheek. He waits until Dean’s eyes flutter closed to let go of his nose. The sight of Dean trying to catch his breath with Cas’s cock still deep in his mouth is a punch in the gut, and Cas has to pull out before he changes his mind and just comes down Dean’s willing throat instead of following through with his other plan. 

Dean coughs and says, “I’m ok. You don’t have to stop.” 

It takes a moment, because Cas is too busy staring at the smear of pink across Dean’s mouth and the streaks of black down his face, but he finally manages, “No, I think I’d like to come on your cock.” 

“Oh. Yeah. That — we can do that.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “Don’t sound so excited.” 

“Hey,” Dean says, glaring up at him and gesturing towards his lap where his cock is straining in his sweatpants. “I think I’m pretty excited.” 

Cas laughs and leans down to kiss his forehead. “I adore you.” 

“I adore you more.” 

Cas gives Dean a gentle slap across the face and then says, “Get up and take off your clothes.” 

Dean gets up on shaky legs while Cas lays himself out on the bed, legs spread in invitation, and reaches for the lube. Dean stumbles as he’s trying to get out of his pants, then follows Cas into the bed, kissing him long and sweet. Cas can taste the lipstick smeared across his mouth, can feel it smear onto his own as their tongues touch. 

Cas grabs Dean by the hair, jerks his head back, smacks him across the face, and then shoves the lube bottle into his hand. “You never let me do this anymore,” Dean says, smiling as he slicks up his fingers. 

“You take too long,” Cas says, and Dean rolls his eyes, earning another slap that makes him whimper and lick his lips. 

After a shaky breath, Dean sits back on his heels, watching as his fingers circle Cas’s hole, pressing with one finger just until Cas starts to open and then withdrawing, biting at his pink-stained bottom lip as he does it. 

“See,” Cas says, even though he’s breathless, “you take forever.” 

“Maybe you’re just too impatient,” Dean says, but he still pushes two fingers in, working into Cas with shallow thrusts. 

Cas sighs softly and arches his back, riding down on Dean’s fingers. “We don’t do this enough,” he says, which is what he always says on the rare occasion Dean fucks him. The problem is that no matter how much Cas enjoys it, Dean  _ loves  _ it, and Cas hasn’t learned how to say no to him. Hasn’t learned how to be selfish when he could make Dean writhe in the sheets, tremble, beg. Maybe that’s its own kind of selfishness. 

Cas grabs the lube and drizzles it along Dean’s cock, even as Dean’s fingers are still fucking him slow and deep, stroking him a few times to spread it. “Fuck me,” Cas says. “But you’re not allowed to come.” 

“Oh, Jesus, seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

“Like, at all?” 

“Not yet.” 

“I hate you,” Dean says, but Cas knows he’ll be good, because he always is. 

Dean pushes into him slowly, like he always does, but in one smooth slide so Cas feels all of him right away, a delicious  _ taking  _ of Dean’s lovely cock. “God, you feel good,” Dean murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle and kiss at Cas’s neck as he starts to roll his hips. 

“Like you mean it,” Cas says, wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist to urge him on. 

“I do mean it.” 

_ “Harder,  _ Dean.” 

Dean fucks into him hard, just twice, then goes back to languid and deep, until Cas jerks his head by the hair to slap him again, hard enough to turn Dean’s cheek red and makes him gasp and whine and jerk his hips. 

“Just like that, sweetheart,” Cas murmurs. 

Dean hitches Cas’s thigh higher up his side and fucks him good, deep and hard so the headboard thumps against the wall. Cas had already been riding the edge with his cock down Dean’s throat, and he’s riding it again now. Before he can tumble over, Dean suddenly stops, pulling all the way out and dropping his forehead against Cas’s chest.

“Shit, sorry, I was about to — just give me a second.” 

Cas pets gently through Dean’s hair and says, “Thank you. You’re so good for me.” 

When Dean raises his head, Cas is unexpectedly startled at how beautiful he is, smeared pink and streaked black with Cas’s devotion and adoration and love. “I love you,” Cas says. 

“Love you more,” Dean says, then stops Cas from responding with a kiss. 

Even as they’re kissing, Dean guides his cock back to Cas’s hole, open and ready for him. “Like you mean it,” Cas says, their mouths still touching. 

Dean is a good, good boy, and it’s no time at all before Cas has his head tossed back, nails biting into Dean’s back as he urges him closer, harder,  _ more.  _

Dean reaches down and strokes Cas’s cock, fast and ruthless with the snap of his hips, and Cas rises, rises, then crashes like waves throwing whitecaps against an ocean cliffside. Dean nips along his shoulder as Cas rides it out, gasping. 

And then Dean groans, and Cas can feel the hot rush of being filled with his come. 

“Oh god,” Dean says, shaky. “Shit, I’m sorry, I — got a little distracted. I’m sorry.” 

“Shh, it’s ok,” Cas says, petting through his hair. “You’re perfect.” 

Dean sighs deeply as he pulls out. “Shoulda paid attention.” 

“You can make it up to me by taking care of this,” Cas says, gesturing to his stomach and chest, striped white, and then clarifies, “With your mouth.” 

Dean flashes him a small, shy smile, but wastes no time carefully licking Cas clean, all the way down to his cock. Once Cas is cleaned up, he pushes Dean onto his back and returns the favor while Dean watches with dark eyes. 

Cas collapses and pulls Dean into his arms, sharing a long, sweet kiss. “Thank you,” Cas murmurs between them. 

Squeezing Cas close, Dean murmurs back, “You’re welcome.” 


	13. MORE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want, sweetheart? You want my cock?” 
> 
> “No. Want.” Dean swallows, suddenly dry-mouthed. “Want your hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to oriana. elanor-n-evermind is still to blame for awakening this in me.

Dean still knows what shame feels like. What it feels like to be ashamed, not of something you did but of  _ yourself,  _ like  _ queer  _ is an insult to be spit out of his father’s mouth and not a community that welcomed him with open arms. Like Johnny W is rolling around in his grave somewhere, knowing he never succeeded in beating it out of Dean. 

Dean still knows what shame feels like, because sometimes it’s like an old injury that didn’t quite heal right. Like the way his knee hurts when a storm is rolling in, sometimes he looks at Cas sleeping next to him and the voice of a ghost tells him he’s doing it all wrong. 

Most of the time he doesn’t think about it at all. He doesn’t think about gender, his own or Cas’s, very much since it stopped feeling like a prison. It’s so easy to just  _ be  _ with Cas. It’s so easy to just love him and not worry about the rest. 

And then there are times it hits him not with shame but with a joyful thrill, the euphoria of being able to have this, have Cas, have anything he wants. The shudder-inducing pleasure of three of Cas’s fingers fucking him deep and slow, Cas whispering  _ my pretty whore  _ in his ear, riding the edge of pleasure for so long it almost hurts. 

“More,” Dean says, hoarse with it. “Please.”

Cas presses hot kisses to the side of Dean’s neck. “What do you want, sweetheart? You want my cock?” 

“No. Want.” Dean swallows, suddenly dry-mouthed. “Want your hand.” 

Dean feels more than hears Cas’s choked off groan against his throat, and then Cas sits back on his heels, looking over Dean, flushed and panting underneath him. “Greedy tonight, hmm?” 

“Don’t tease me.” 

“Or what?” 

Before Dean can come up with a cheeky response, Cas bends down and tugs at one of his nipples with his teeth, almost too hard, but not quite. Dean arches into it with a gasp, then whines as Cas’s fingers slip free. 

Somehow Cas manages to find the lube in the sheets even as he continues playing with Dean’s nipples with lips and tongue and teeth, and then four fingers are pushing into Dean, slow and sure. 

“You’re going to tell me if it hurts,” Cas says in a tone that doesn’t leave room for disobedience. Dean nods, almost frantically, and he can feel Cas’s smile against his chest. 

Cas pushes his fingers in deep and slaps Dean across the face, twice. “Oh god,” Dean whispers, already dying for more. 

“You better not come until I say,” Cas says. Dean nods, earning himself another smack that leaves his cheek tingling and hot. 

Cas gives Dean a soft kiss and then sits back again, watching his fingers work Dean open. Dean should be embarrassed, he thinks, to be on display as he begs for more, but instead the look on Cas’s face makes Dean’s cock jerk against the wet on his stomach. 

Dean can feel Cas’s thumb, not going in but just the barest pressure on the rim of his hole, as he fucks him at a taunting-slow pace. 

“Cas,” Dean whimpers. “Please.” 

“You don’t even sound like you want it,” Cas says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Please,” Dean says again, arching his hips to try to take more of Cas’s fingers.  _ “Please.”  _

The last time Dean took two toys at once wasn’t even that long ago, but Cas’s fingers feel impossibly huge as he slowly works his thumb in. Dean shifts his hips, trying to take more, but Cas settles him by squeezing his thigh. 

“Ok?” Cas asks. 

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Dean says, not surprised his voice comes out shaky. 

Dean loves Cas’s hands. Loves how pretty they are, how they feel touching him gentle and rough, on him and inside him. But now Dean is remembering how  _ big  _ they are as he feels the tease of Cas’s knuckles against his hole. 

Cas pours more lube on his hand, kisses the inside of Dean’s knee as he twists his fingers inside of him. Dean reaches — fumbling — and manages to grab Cas’s shoulder to pull him down for a no-finesse kiss, The change in angle makes Dean gasp and then his head drops, baring his neck for Cas to kiss and bite. 

“Oh god,” Dean whimpers. He’s stretching wider with each slow thrust of Cas’s fingers, so close. “Please.” 

“Almost there, honey,” Cas murmurs. “You’re doing so well. My good boy.” 

And then it happens. Cas presses, just a little more, and then he’s all the way  _ in,  _ filling Dean impossibly. He can feel his thighs start to tremble as he gasps, “Oh god, oh god.” 

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, holy —” Dean’s toes curl as he shifts, testing the size and weight of Cas inside him. “Jesus.” 

“Feels good?” 

Dean nods, words flying out of his mind as Cas pulls backwards, just the tiniest bit to tug at his hole, then back in. The pressure against Dean’s prostate is almost blindingly good. 

“I think you can come like this again,” Cas says, voice still soft. “I want you to.” 

Dean nods, turns his head to find Cas’s mouth for a messy, panting kiss. Cas stays close, noses nuzzling together, as he fucks Dean with just the hint of thrusts, so intense Dean thinks he may shake apart. “Just — just like that,” Dean moans. 

Heat spreads through Dean’s body, and out of nowhere — or everywhere — he’s coming, clenching around Cas’s hand, knees tightening against his sides. Dean comes long and hard, like pulling it from deep in his core, so good he’s left dizzy in the aftermath. 

“Good boy,” Cas says, sounding rough, and then slowly starts to ease his hand out. The  _ empty  _ feeling is bizarre, but Dean’s still trembling with aftershocks and hardly notices. 

When Cas pulls away, Dean opens his eyes to watch Cas stroking his own cock, just a few times before covering Dean’s hole with his come. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says. 

Cas gives him a small smile, smacks him across the face, and then kisses him. “I love you.” 

“Love you more.” 

“You are insufferable,” Cas says, and gives Dean a quick forehead kiss before climbing out of bed. “Hold, please.” 

Dean listens to the water run in the bathroom without thinking anything at all, then Cas comes back in to gently clean Dean with a washcloth. 

“Hope we have some clean sheets,” Dean says. 

Cas huffs a laugh and climbs back in bed, tucking up against Dean’s side. Dean’s still too fucked out to move, legs spread and knees akimbo. “I’ll do laundry if necessary. It doesn’t look like you’re doing much for awhile.” 

Dean turns his head to press his face into Cas’s hair and says, “Thank you. Not for the laundry, because I’ll end up doing it anyway. But the rest.” 

Cas grins against Dean’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.” 

Gytha starts scratching on the bedroom door. 

**Author's Note:**

> [sharkfish](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com) on tumblr / julesy#0921 on discord
> 
> i'm bad at answering comments but every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days! <3 thank you for being here!


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